Paradise Lust: Oceans of Passion
by NicoPony
Summary: Gambit and Rogue are kidnapped and forced to star in a Murderworld reality show that Mojo is billing as "part-Bachelorette, part-Survivor, part-Hunger Games." With no escape, the pair must reunite or face an angry island goddess' lust-fueled wrath. Takes place after start of WATXM and stars cast of XML.
1. Plot Devised

Director's Cut: This story is a **satire** of what I feel is wrong with the last two to three years of comic book storytelling, focusing mostly on Gambit and Rogue and their recent characterizations. I feel like these two characters have had the life wrung out of them, and I am parodying several story lines here. This story is very self-aware. It's very silly. I've also taken a lot of ideas and dialogue straight from my everyday life, so it's not all completely nonsense. (Or_** is**_ it?)

This story takes place near the beginning of Wolverine & The X-Men and X-Men Legacy #260. It contains some adult language and suggestive sexual situations.

* * *

TEASER

COLD OPEN:

INT. X-BRIG CELL, UTOPIA – NIGHT

EXODUS was confined to a cell deep within the bowels of the island Utopia, which served as a place of residence for half of the formerly united X-Men. Exodus did very little other than to ruminate on the current mutant state of affairs (i.e. the impending doom of all mutantdom), and meditate (freeing his mind of all distraction, so that he might continue to ruminate). Exodus had lived a very, very long life and was content to sit silently in place biding his time. Inevitably, he would be freed and rise up once more to serve as prophet and protector of all mutantkind. He needed to be prepared for his future as sovereign and he was using his incarceration as an opportunity to think.

The cell was dimly lit and empty save for a cot, a sink, and a toilet. Exodus was pleased with the accommodations as they did not lend themselves to distraction. The first thing he would do as mutant messiah would be to do away with all forms of mind-addling distractions for his superior race; no more television, internet, or other electronic gadgetry, and he would eliminate the foolish minstrels and their "rock music." Furthermore, he would personally find and assassinate this Mark Zuckerberg person for making the insidious so-called social network a reality.

Exodus could not say how long he sat silently and stone-still as time was of little consequence to one as long-lived and powerful as he. If he had been keeping track however, he would have known that several weeks had passed since he had engaged and been defeated in combat by the X-Men.* Despite all this time, Exodus felt he was rudely interrupted when a golden glowing rectangle of light slid open before him, much like a magical McDonald's drive-thru window.

The face that appeared in the window could only loosely be described as a face, in that it had two eyes (bulbous, huge eyes that looked like two hardboiled eggs), a nose (long and pointy), and a mouth (fleshy lips pulled back in a rictus grin over numerous long, narrow teeth). It was the face of a monster; its skin the color and texture of Swiss cheese that had been left on the counter too long. And its voice, when it spoke, was high, mewling, saccharin-sweet and grated on the ears. Nails on a chalkboard could be said to be more melodious.

"Ex-O-Dussss...!" the monster said, propping his skinny elbow into the window and leaning one of his many chins on his fist. "Why, look at you! What a predicament!"

Exodus looked at the monster and his perpetual frown deepened. "MOJO," he answered. "Your presence is unwelcome."

"I'm _sorry_!" said MoJo, sounding not the least bit sorry. "Are you _terribly_ busy? You're not an easy man to get ahold of, I must say. I know! I'll have _my_ people call _your_ people and we can arrange a time that's more _convenient_ for _**you**_!"

Exodus' eyes narrowed. "One day, when my people have united and risen up to their rightful station, we will destroy your hedonistic society and rid the universe of your disgusting presence."

MoJo leaned back from the window with an expression of mock incredulity. "Is that any way to talk to the person who granted you your freedom?" MoJo's voice suddenly changed from sweet to a sharp threatening growl: "_We had a deal_.*"

"I am a man of my word," Exodus informed him. "And I will honor my agreements with those who have honor. A quality you lack."

MoJo pressed his overlong fingers into the sides of his fat face. "But you _wound_ me, Exo. Now you lissen here, and lissen good...you want to remain in a cell? _**Fine**__._ But you **owe** me. And if you're not going to jump at this opportunity and thank me on bended knee, then you can rot in a **Murderworld** cell. And I can tell you now, it'll be a whole hellava lot more _entertaining_ than the cell you enjoy now."

"If you think I will serve in one of your asinine competitions for the amusement of your television viewers, you are mistaken," Exodus informed him.

"You! Bah!" MoJo exclaimed. "No one wants to watch a program about _you_! You've got the personality of a bag of burned hair!"

Exodus ground his teeth. "Then what is it you propose?"

"I need someone with _**star**_ power! Someone with verve...with **zazz**!" MoJo said.

"Zazz," Exodus repeated.

MoJo flung out his bony arms. "That's right! And I want **you** to be my talent agent! Find me someone with all the qualities of _this_ superstar, and consider our bargain fulfilled!" MoJo flourished a glossy headshot of a blond-haired man with a winning smile and twinkling eyes. It was signed with a flourish in black Sharpie marker: _With Love, From Longshot!_, and then was followed with a series of Xs and Os.

Exodus accepted the photograph and regarded it silently for a moment. "And how shall I acquire your star from the confines of this cell?"

"Details! I'm in 'em! Don't worry about that, Exo ole pal. I'll have you outta here in a jiff. And since this is the second time, twice now-," MoJo held up two overlong many-jointed fingers, "that I have granted you a chance at freedom...I'm gonna need two, count 'em: _two,_ stars!"

Exodus' eyes returned to the bulbous heap that constituted as MoJo's head. "Should the second star also have...zazz?"

"You bet your shiny red ass she should!" MoJo declared. "Make sure she's got nice big ones too," he added with a descriptive gesture.

Exodus continued to frown impassively. "You intend for me to seek out a woman?"

"That's riiiiight!" MoJo trilled. "A woman fitting of a leading man! This is going to be a _lurve_ story!"

"This sounds ridiculous," Exodus told him. "A useless waste of resources; time, energy, thought. One might be better served banging one's head against a concrete wall."

"You are soooo boring," MoJo said with an exaggerated yawn. "Here, take these."

MoJo held out his arm through the window. Exodus reluctantly extended his arm and MoJo dropped three gold coins into his outstretched palm.

"What are these?" Exodus examined the coins.

"Transport coins. Just click my shining face and a portal will open. One for each new star!" MoJo explained delightedly.

"But there are three," Exodus said.

"Clever man!" MoJo replied condescendingly. "Yes...**three**! Because what kind of lurve story would it be without another lurve interest! A lurve triangle! Get me **three** stars and then it will _me_ that owes _you_!"

Exodus considered the coins in his palm. Each coin featured MoJo's bulbous head in profile. It wasn't his best side.

"That sounds imbecilic," Exodus told him.

"What do you know?" MoJo challenged. "_I _know what I'm doing! People lurve lurve triangles! Why do you think we keep doing it over and over and over again!"

"Because you pander to the lowest common denominator and underestimate your viewers' intelligence," Exodus informed him. "And ignore their desire for logical progression of fulfilling plot lines."

"I'll have you know American Idol will start it's twelfth season soon."

"You have made your point. Very well," Exodus said. "Release me from this cell, and I will deliver you your zazz."

"Excellent!" MoJo said.

A voice from somewhere behind MoJo spoke: "Mr. Quesada, you're expected at the ComicCon panel in fifteen minutes."

"Augh," MoJoe said disgustedly. "Bunch of fanboy whiners. They wouldn't know a decent story line if it bit 'em in their asses!" With that, MoJoe disappeared, leaving Exodus alone in his cell once more. Exodus carefully folded himself into Lotus position and continued to bide his time.

"Soon," he told himself. It was unfortunate that three mutants would have to be sacrificed to MoJo's Murderworld, but it was all for a good cause. Exodus would then be free lead his people from a world of banal distraction and into the light of a new dawn.

FADE OUT

END TEASER

*see X-Men: Legacy #262  
*see Uncanny X-Men #460-461


	2. Concessions Stand

ACT ONE

Scene A

FADE IN:

INT. MERCY MEDICAL HOSPITAL, THE BRONX – NIGHT

CECELIA REYES heard his distinctive voice long before she saw him in the flesh, and yet she had to make a visual confirmation to convince her mind of this new reality. She otherwise would have turned and fled back up the hallway. He had a very pronounced accent (over-pronounced if you had asked for her honest opinion), and spoke in a long drawl that kept you hanging on to each word, wondering when, if ever, the sentence would come to an end. Seeing him there at the nurses' station confirmed her fears. Yes, REMY LEBEAU was in fact at the hospital, invading her personal territory and upsetting the balance of the universe. Cece would have sooner come to grips with the sight of a jungle cat lounging on the nurses' station and not Gambit, but then jungle cats didn't arrive bearing paper bags of take-out from her favorite deli.

He was speaking to three nurses and they were listening with their full attention. The youngest, Erin, might have been drooling slightly. Even the fake-nice one who was actually a two-faced liar, Megan, was enthralled. She was allowing Remy to actually sit on the countertop, his legs dangling. His jeans might have been painted on. Also parked at the nurses' station was an elderly wheelchair-bound patient, Mrs. Emily Isles, who was equally smitten (or, if Cece was remembering correctly, suffering from dementia).

Cece stared at Remy for several moments, wondering what she should do. Running still seemed to be an option. But then he turned and spotted her, and his all ready bright smile upped its wattage ten-fold. She had to turn her head for the glare.

"Cece!" he said happily and hopped off the counter.

"Remy...what-," Cecelia reluctantly began.

"I remembered you were workin' a double. And I thought you tole me de other day...if you had t'eat another meal from de hospital cafeteria...you were gonna turn into a green Jell-O salad yourself. So I thought t'myself...I should bring you somethin' you'd actually like t'eat." It took nearly a half-hour for him to complete this sentence, which gave him plenty of time to saunter over to her and deliver the brown paper bag. He set it on top of her clipboard. "I got you that sandwich you always get and I made them put the 'slaw on de side so it wouldn't get soggy."

Cecelia's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Uhm...thank you?" she said and he continued to smile down at her, oblivious to the fact that he had just dropped an atomic bomb on her side of the country. "I really don't have the time to talk-."

"Just stoppin' by," he said and quickly kissed her cheek. Why he couldn't talk as fast as he moved, Cecelia didn't understand. "And since you've gone and left me all lonely tonight...I had t'go find me some company."

Horrified, Cecelia looked at the nurses who were staring hungrily at her the way a pack of laughing hyenas stares as a wounded impala.

"Emily, _mon amour_," Remy said, taking Mrs. Isles palsied hand in his own and dropping a kiss onto it. "Shall we continue our late night promenade or just go straight to your bedroom?"

"Oohh...oh my..." Mrs. Isles said tremulously.

"You!" someone shouted from down the hall. "You stop right there! Come back with that patient!"

Remy seized Mrs. Isles' wheelchair by the handles and spun her around so she faced the opposite direction. "We must fly, _ma cherie_!" he declared and then ran off down the hall with the patient around the corner and out of sight.

"Move your sweet buns, they've nearly caught up to us!" cried Mrs. Isles from somewhere down the hall.

Two orderlies swept past Cecelia and after Remy and his willing abductee. They too vanished around the corner. There was a crash and a bedpan rolled into sight, rolled on its circumference like a dropped coin, then came to a rattling halt in the center of the hallway.

Cecelia blinked several times. Slowly, she turned away from the nurses' station. She took one slow step away before the hyenas began their rallying cry.

"Oooooooo!" Megan called. "_Doctor_ Reyes!"

"_Ai ai ai, muy caliente_!" called the other nurse, Lydia, who was actually nice but extremely bawdy and loud.

"_He's_ your boyfriend?" Erin said jealously. "_Him_! How is **that** fair?"

Cecelia swallowed and then turned back to the nurses. "He's _not_ my boyfriend," she said. "We're just...dating. In a _not_ serious way."

"Doctor Reyes is just having herself a bit of fun," Megan said with a fake-sweet smile.

Lydia brayed: "Got herself a little boy toy!"

Through clenched teeth Cecelia ground out: "He's not a boy. He's an adult. A grown man. And he is not-my-_toy_."

Lydia said: "Oh, he's a **man** all right. I could tell through those jeans!"

Megan simpered. "So what does this _man_ of yours **do** for a living?"

"GQ model?" Erin speculated. "One of the shirtless greeters at Abercrombie & Fitch?"

"No!" Cecelia shouted, then paused. What was she going to answer: _X-Man?...Professional thief?...School teacher?_ "He's-he's between jobs!"

She was answered with cackles. "Doctor Reyes is a sugar mamma!" Lydia declared. "Shackin' up! Got her a kept man!"

"So-totally-not-fair!" Erin said.

"AUGH!" Cecelia said in disgust. She turned and stomped off to the lunch room; the laughing catcalls of the nurses echoing down the hall after her.

FADE OUT

ACT ONE

Scene B

FADE IN:

INT. GAMBIT'S APARTMENT, NEW YORK, UPPER EAST SIDE – DAY

"What is this music we're listening to?" Cecelia asked Remy, or rather, asked his backside which from this angle was all she could see of him.

He was leaning over the television console fishing wires out from behind the video and stereo equipment. "Do you like it?" she heard him say from somewhere behind the television.

"Yes..." she said, staring. She then blinked. "The music. It's good...who is it?" she asked.

Remy extricated himself from behind the console. "You probably haven't heard of them," he said airily.

Cecelia rolled her eyes, crumpled up a blue Post-It note and flung it at him. It hit him in the small of his back then fell to the floor with the other crumpled balls of yellow, hot pink, and blue Post-Its. "Snob," she said.

He laughed and looked at the end of the cable he'd pulled out from behind the television. "If you like, we could go see 'em this Sunday...they're playin' in Central Park. You wanna come with?"

Cecelia picked up her cellphone from the coffee table. She too was sitting on the floor; newspaper classifieds, print-offs from CraigsList, and other papers spread out onto the coffee table before her. She consulted the calendar in her phone. "I'm free that day, should be fine."

"_Enh, bien_, it's a date," he said and once again disappeared behind the television. "We could go eat at that Latin Fusion place before de show-should I make a reservation?"

"Do you even need to ask?" she responded. She continued to regard his backside. "I'm amazed you have any blood circulation to your legs whatsoever," she told it.

"Hmm?" he said distractedly.

"I'm saying your jeans are so tight I can read your credit card information through your back pocket."

He answered unintelligibly and then dropped something which rolled behind the TV. He then said: "Dammit."

Cecelia returned to her papers, pulled her Steno-pad closer, and then drew a chart on it with her black pen. "Hey, I wanted to tell you...you can't come to my work again."

Remy glanced over at her, then picked a dust bunny out of the lock of hair that fell in his face. "What?"

Cecelia circled an ad in the classifieds with her blue pen. "You can't just drop in on me unexpectedly like that."

"Did I break de rules?" he asked her.

"Other than abducting Mrs. Isles...no. You didn't break any rules by stopping by to bring me lunch." The next ad she circled with red.

"So you didn't want to see me?" He sounded a little put out.

Cecelia shook her head. "No, not that either. You're too much of a distraction."

"Is this about my jeans again?"

"No, Remy...You're too distracting to the nurses."

"I didn't mean t'keep anyone from their work," Remy said.

"They weren't working anyway...Those three are the worst," Cecelia said, using a highlighter to tick off another ad. "The slightest whiff of my personal life sends them into a feeding frenzy. They'll eat me alive."

Remy smiled and stuck his arm behind the console to fish out another cable. "They seemed okay t'me."

Without raising her head, Cecelia glanced up at him. "They're a pack of vicious animals, trust me. And I resent their assumptions about me, about you, and about our relationship."

Remy sat splay-legged on the floor, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry, _chere_. Didn't mean t'embarrass you none."

"_You_ don't embarrass me-_they_ do," Cecelia said.

"Here I thought it was just wit' de X-Men these things happen. Catty gossip...who's datin' who, who slept with who-people offerin' up unwanted relationship advice... Guess I don't un'erstand workplace dynamics."

"It's the same everywhere...unless you're some kind of cat burglar type where the only human interaction at _your_ workplace is you getting apprehended by Daredevil or something."

"That guy couldn't catch a cold. You want t'tell me his secret identity?" Remy began connecting the two cables together.

"For the last time, no."

Remy continued: "So what assumptions are we talkin' about here, from those jackal nurses?"

Cecelia began to fill in her chart. "They're hyenas, and don't worry about it," she answered. "It just annoys me that they feel like they can judge me. You don't know what it's like working with these people everyday."

Remy rolled his eyes skyward. "Oh, no. Couldn't imagine what you must go through...b'cause everything I do is **beyond** reproach. But you let me know when a group of your peers judge you guilty and I'll swing by de arctic tundra t'come pick you up."

Cecelia considered him a moment. "Okay, so maybe they're not _that_ bad. But what do you think would happen if I showed up at the school looking for you...what do you think would happen?"

Remy grinned, then shrugged. ""Probably de usual...wait'll I'm outta sight and then they'd take turns telling you what a jerk I am."

"I know you're not a jerk."

"Then they'll suspect you've got a mind-altering brain injury and have you hospitalized. Can I come visit you then?" Remy asked.

She tossed another crumpled up Post-It.

"Let's agree then, neither of us will come t'de others' workplace. We'll stay on neutral ground. Seriously, I can't deal wit' any more drama. I'm over it," he said.

"You're a catalyst for drama, Remy," she informed him. "You bring it on yourself. Not everything has to be so complicated."

"Not complicated?" Remy said speculatively. "Does that mean I can finally change my relationship status on Facebook, then?

Cecelia picked her phone up and tapped open an app. "Go ahead, change it. I'm going to 'like' it."

Remy squeezed his phone from his pocket. "Yeah...?" he said, opening the app on his phone as well. "You '**like'** that, _chere_? Do you?"

"Oh, yeah! I 'like' it just like that!"

Remy's status changed from "It's Complicated" to "Is Single."

"It's Facebook official!" he declared, then paused while regarding the face of his cellphone. "Hey, you're not de only one who likes it...Alison Blaire just 'liked' it too."

Cecelia looked at her phone. "Oh no she di-int!"

"Should I 'poke' her?" Remy asked.

Two crumpled Post-It's beamed off Remy's head.

"Sorry, _chere_, now that every one of my friends and friends of friends know I'm a free agent, you're gonna have some competition," Remy told her.

Cecelia bent over her work pad. "Really, you're too much man for me to handle. I should let someone else have a turn," she said with feigned disinterest.

"You're so good at sharing," Remy told her, returning to his electronic components.

"Little skill I picked up in Kindergarten," Cecelia said. "Along with learning not to take what's not yours...speaking of which, what _**are**_ you doing?"

"Hmn?" he said, looking at the two cables.

"I know you heard me. Are you stealing cable?" she asked.

"D'you know how much Time Warner is charging for a cable/internet bundle? It's highway robbery...I'm just givin' them a taste of their own medicine," Remy told her.

"I am not going to be complacent with your criminal activities," Cecelia said, pointing her pen at him.

Remy fixed the two wires together. "You said you wanted to catch up on this season of _MadMen_."

"Don't even pretend that this isn't about some Battleship Galapagos marathon on Syfy," Cecelia said.

"It's _Battle_star _**Galactica**_," Remy informed her.

"I had no idea what a big giant nerd you were when we started dating," Cecelia said.

"You must have sensed my inner nerd, on account of you having a thing for big giant nerds t'begin wit'," Remy quipped. "Also, _True Blood_ starts next month."

"Okay, plug it in. We'll just say we're borrowing it."

"By your command," Remy answered in a robotic voice.

"Nerd," Cecelia said and threw another Post-It.

"What're you doin' over there with all them papers, other than making a mess on my floor?" Remy asked her as he screwed the cable back into the television.

"Apartment hunting," she told him.

"I tole you you could stay as long as you wanted," Remy said, standing up and tiptoeing around the balled up wads of paper.

"And I _tol__**d **_you I am a grown up adult woman who can afford to have her own apartment," she pressed some keys on her calculator and studied the number. "I think."

"Hasn't watchin' _New Girl_ taught you grown ups can have roommates? You can be Zooey Deschanel, and I can be the douche-y guy who sleeps wit' all de supermodels." He sat on the couch behind her and looked over her shoulder at the apartment ads.

"My life is not a situation comedy," Cecelia said. "And I am used to things being a certain way. I like to feel I can take care of myself."

"I'll be sad t'see you go. De bathroom never smelled so nice til you got here, and you make food appear in de fridge."

"It's called a supermarket. There's one a block away from here. Look into it."

"Can you picture me in a supermarket?" Remy asked her dryly.

She thought for a moment. "No, not really."

"So what's wit' dis chart?" he asked studying her Steno-pad.

"It's a D.A.," Cecelia answered.

"A district attorney?" Remy asked and took the pad from her.

"No, a Decision Analysis," she explained. "You determine your requirements: your 'must-haves,' and then rank them numerically by how important they are to you. Then you measure your options against your must-haves, tally their scores, and make a decision." She pointed to her red, blue, and yellow circled options.

Remy frowned at her list. "Looks like a lot of work," he told her.

"It's how you make a rational decision," she said and took the list back from him. "So...my must-haves...**must** be close to my work-."

Cecelia wrote: CONVENIENT.

"**Must** be something I can afford-."

She wrote: REASONABLE.

"It would be nice if I knew that I could count on the super, that the place is in decent shape so I won't have to worry about anything breaking-."

RELIABLE.

Remy continued to frown.

"And it should also be in a good neighborhood," Cecelia concluded and wrote: SAFE.

"What about 'comfortable'?" Remy asked. "Shouldn't it be something you feel comfortable in? Put that down."

"Well, Remy," she said and drew her pencap down the list, "if I have all of these things, I'll be comfortable."

"What about charm...character?" he asked. "Shouldn't you want t'come to a place that feels like home?"

"I don't really care about that," Cecelia said and began ranking her list. "I just need a place to eat and sleep."

"Shouldn't it **look** nice?" he asked. "Who wants to stare at a concrete wall? You want t'feel like you're in a prison cell?"

"That would be **nice**...but it's not really a '_must-have_,'" she said, oblivious to the increasingly unhappy expression on Remy's face.

"I think your list sucks," Remy said and stood. He walked over to the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door. He studied the contents in a desultory way.

Cecelia began to tally up points for each of the apartments she'd found. "This is how I make a decision, Remy. It's logical, and it takes the emotional part out of the equation. You should try it sometime, instead of just reacting. Practice a little impulse-control and analyze the bare-boned facts."

Remy slammed the refrigerator door shut. "We're out of milk," he told the refrigerator.

Cecelia reorganized her papers. "That's why I put a tablet on the fridge door...so you could write down the things you need."

Remy picked the pen off the clip holding it to the tablet. "M-I-L-K," he announced while writing. "Hm, what else do I need? Oh, yeah...Im-puulsse Con-_troll_."

Cecelia paused, just then sensing the sudden change in climate. It was decidedly chilly. "Don't start your passive-aggressive bullshit with me," she warned. "I was only saying-."

"How's this for passive?" he asked and threw the pen at her.

It pinged off her shield, her mutant ability that protected her from concussive forces. "Hey!" she shouted. "Now you _are_ being a jerk!"

"Add it to your list of things you think are wrong wit' me!" he said, his arms out to his sides. "I'm sure it will be a long one."

Cecelia slapped her pen down. "What _are_ you talking about?"

Remy stalked over to the closet door and opened it. He pulled his coat down from the hanger where Cecelia had put it, grabbed his keys from the dish Cecelia had put on the table for that purpose, and walked to the apartment door.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Out," he answered and opened the door. "I don't need to be made t'feel like an idiot in my own apartment! I get plenty of that at de school!"

"You are over-reacting...! Come back here-you can't take your bike. It's **raining** out!"

"Some people don't have the sense t'come in out of de rain," he said, and slammed the door shut behind him.

Cecelia stared at the closed door. "What the _hell_!" she shouted to the empty apartment. Then she looked down at her list. She ripped it from the Steno-pad, crumpled it up, then threw it at the door.

FADE OUT


	3. Supporting Cast

ACT ONE

Scene C

FADE IN:

EXT. UNDER HIGHWAY OVERPASS, NEAR SALEM CENTER, NEW YORK – DAY

Remy was forced to admit to himself that this wasn't the best decision he'd ever made. Another semi-truck blew past, sending a spray of road water washing over Remy and his motorcycle. He was parked under an overpass, soaked through and bedraggled. He leaned forward with his forearms on the handlebars of his bike, watching the rain fall. He was halfway between his apartment and The Jean Grey School in Salem Center, New York. He was halfway between being an X-Man and a thief. He was halfway between making a decision to move on with his life or to maintain his holding pattern and hope things would change. He was going nowhere fast.

He was trying to make a new start, but it all seemed a lot like he was watching a re-run of the same dumb show he'd seen twice all ready. Life at the school didn't seem to be any better than it was the first couple of times around. It wasn't that the X-Men expected too much of him; it was that they didn't seem to expect anything _at all_ from him. Everyone seemed to be surprised he even showed up. Remy wanted to be supportive. He wanted to be helpful and feel like he was making some kind of contribution other than comedic relief. When he volunteered to sub for Kitty's ethics class while she was sick, the others had actually laughed at him. Remy supposed he should join in too, because it was better to be in on the joke than the butt of it. Ha ha, so funny. Because what did Remy LeBeau know about ethics, right? Because there was always a **right **or **wrong** answer to every situation. Though the way Remy understood it, ethics was the conflict between two closely held values and the ability to weigh those values in a given circumstance where there were two potentially right or two potentially wrong outcomes. What do you choose: loyalty or honesty? Reason or faith? Devotion to the dream or commitment to the individual? Remy supposed the X-Men had an easier time making decisions than he did. Maybe he should make up a friggin' chart.

So since he couldn't help out with classwork, Remy volunteered his services in an area he did know something about: _security_. When Hank McCoy had designed the new school building, Remy had offered up some constructive criticism. It was met with a certain lack of graciousness. Remy thought maybe he might have delivered the advice a little differently perhaps.

"Nice of you t'put that access crawlspace right there," Remy had told Hank. "Make it easy for de X-Cutioner t'break in and assassinate y'all in your sleep."

Remy was then invited to venture forth and fornicate himself.

Remy had also tried being nice. He was nice to Rogue, who for the most part ignored him. He was nice to Joanna, who for the most part insulted him. He was nice to Cecelia who clearly believed him to be inconvenient, beyond reason, unreliable, and a dangerous person. So far, being nice and swallowing his pride had achieved nothing but to make him everyone's doormat. Maybe he wasn't being nice at all, but was actually being a spineless wuss.

"Okay," he said. "No more Mr. Nice Guy." Remy kicked his motorcycle to life and drove off towards Salem Center in the drizzling rain.

CUT TO:

INT. DARK CRAWLSPACE, THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL – DAY

Once Gambit arrived outside the school, he realized he'd forgotten his security badge. He _could_ enter through the visitors' entrance and go to the reception desk and acquire one of the Temporary Passes, also known as the dreaded TP Badge. He might as well wear a Scarlet Letter on his coat and wither away under the heat of the residents' bitter puritanical scorn. Instead, Gambit opted to turn his forgetfulness into an opportunity to test the school's security. He decided to break in.

Gambit had been hidden in the access crawlspace for some time now waiting for the right moment to make his appearance. At some point, HANK MCCOY would come down the corridor to go to his room. Gambit had the access panel to the crawlspace propped open slightly so that he could see the hallway. While he was waiting, he played a game of Solitaire. He heard Hank's tuneless humming before he saw him. That gave Gambit the time to charge each of the remaining screws in the access panel.

Hank's massive blue-furred form hove into view. He was carrying a mug of coffee in one paw and his iPad in the other. Just before he passed below, the charged screws popped, sending the access panel flying open. Gambit emerged triumphantly, dangling from the open panel like a demented Jack-in-the-Box.

"Bang! You dead!" he cried as he hung upside-down. He grinned and regarded Hank's expression.

Rivulets of coffee were trickling from Hank's hair and down his face. He looked down into his empty coffee mug. Then he regarded his iPad for a moment and shook the droplets of coffee from its glossy screen.

"Gambit," he said without a hint of inflection in his voice. "I see you have decided to make your point about our security quite clear."

"Hey, good luck for you I'm not a Marauder still!" Gambit informed him gaily.

"Lucky indeed," Hank said, then added: "Where is your security badge?"

Gambit looked at Hank and frowned. "I don't need no stinkin' badges," he told him.

"What was that! WHAT **was** that?" cried a voice from down the hall.

Gambit turned slightly to regard the janitor, MORTIMER, hopping down the hallway.

"Oh...just great! GREAT! I suppose I have to clean up **this** mess, too?" he complained.

"It _is_ your job," Gambit informed him. "That thing you get **paid** for. Me, I work _pro bono_."

"That doesn't mean you get to make _my_ life more difficult than it all ready is!" Mortimer snapped.

"Gambit," Hank began. "I suggest you get thee hence and pick up a TP Badge from reception." He then reached up and seized Gambit by the jacket, hauled him out of the crawlspace, flipped him right-side up, and set him solidly on his feet.

"Ow," Gambit said.

"You are skating on thin ice, my friend," Hank said.

"Cajuns don't skate," Gambit said.

"Then be prepared to swim. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find out if my iPad can be resuscitated." He ambled off down the hall. "And plot out how we can reconfigure the crawlspace above the staff quarters."

"You're welcome!" Gambit called after him.

"Now I have to go find something to clean coffee stains off the ceiling!" Mortimer said testily, then he too left.

Gambit moved to walk down the hall and realized too late that his legs had gone to sleep from spending so long up in the crawlspace. He staggered in one direction, leaned in the opposite, and then caromed off the wall. A nearby door opened. KITTY emerged from it.

"Oh, hey, Kitty," Gambit said, and attempted to right himself.

Her eyes went up, then down, and then back up to meet Gambit's eyes. And not in the good: "I'm giving you a once-over because I think you're hot" kind of way.

It was the: "Where is your security badge?" kind of way.

"Uhm," Gambit said and swayed on his numbed legs.

"Are you _drunk_?" Kitty hissed.

"Not as much as I'd like t'be," Gambit replied.

It was partly due to him being numb from the waist down and partly due to sheer surprise that Kitty managed to seize Gambit by the wrist, throw him up against the wall face-first, and twist his arm behind his back. She exclaimed: "I can't believe this! I bet Logan it'd be three months before you'd screw up!"

"You bet **against** me?" Gambit asked the wall indignantly.

"I was betting **for** you!" Kitty spat. "Logan said you wouldn't last three _weeks_!"

"Hey!" Gambit said.

"I'm going to owe him a bottle of Glenlivet if I lose!" Kitty said. "So you'd better not screw up!"

"How's come Logan gets to drink on de job and I don't? I'm tired of livin' by these double-standards!" Gambit exclaimed with outrage.

Kitty yanked Gambit away from the wall and released him, then kicked him in the pants to send him on his way. "Go get a TP Badge!" she told him. "And stay out of Logan's sight until you sober up!"

"Ow!" he said and rubbed his backside. "That's a bad Kitty!"

Kitty slammed her bedroom door.

"I don't get no respect," he said to the empty hall, then steered himself towards the staircase leading down to the lower floor. Now he couldn't feel his legs _or_ his arm, **and** his ass hurt. He looked down the staircase. There was no way he was going to be able to walk down those steps. Gambit decided to slide down the banister instead.

Unfortunately, SAM GUTHRIE wasn't expecting anyone to be sliding down the banister as he rounded the corner and began up the staircase. Gambit crashed into him and they both landed in a heap on the floor.

Nose to nose, Gambit looked at Sam's unhappy face and said: "Whoops."

"Git offa me!" Sam exclaimed and shoved Gambit onto the floor.

"Don't be sore at me, just 'cause you can't take what you dish out," Gambit told him.

"Ya big dummy!" Sam said, sitting up. "Act like an adult! You're supposed t'be settin' an example! Where's your badge?"

"Ugh...!" Gambit said, struggling to his feet. "I forgot it!"

"Shame!" Sam said and pointed an accusing finger at him. "_Shhhaaaammme_!"

Gambit pulled his coat over his head and ran away. He didn't stop until he got to the visitor's entrance. Gambit found that DOOP was sleeping behind the reception desk so he stole a TP Badge from behind the counter. He slammed the door on his way out, rudely awakening Doop who inexplicably fell to the floor.

Gambit then walked to the kitchen. At the entryway, he spied ROGUE at the kitchen table with her laptop. She was either purposefully ignoring him or was too absorbed in her own thoughts to see him. He proceeded to the refrigerator and opened the doors.

"Don't be stealin' Bobby's lunch again," Rogue told him, not looking up from her laptop.

"I didn't see his name on it," Gambit said from the interior of the refrigerator. There were several containers with the name BOBBY DRAKE written on them with black Sharpie marker and the addendum: I LICKED EVERYTHING IN THIS CONTAINER REMY!

"You know, food doesn't _magically_ appear in the fridge," Rogue said idly as she worked.

Gambit picked up a jug of milk. "What de hell is this?" he asked.

"What is what?" Rogue asked, typing away.

"_Skim milk_?" Gambit said, aghast. "Who de hell drinks skim milk?"

"We started a healthy food initiative at the school," Rogue told him.

Gambit tossed the milk jug back into the refrigerator with disgust. "That doesn't mean **we** have to eat and drink that crap too!"

Rogue stopped typing and gave him her full attention. "If you don't like it, **you** do the grocery shopping."

"I've all ready had this conversation t'day," he told her, slamming the refrigerator doors shut.

"Then you'll have t'eat what's put on the table," Rogue said. "And like it."

"I'll tell you what I'd like t'have on de table," Gambit said with a grin.

"Don't you even start with me," Rogue responded, unamused.

"Used t'be you'd at least give me a blush, Roguey. Or sass me back," Gambit said, putting his hands on his hips. "Why'd you up and turn into such a stick in de mud?"

"Ah wish you'd take things more seriously, Remy," Rogue told him. "Drop the act. You're better than this."

"And I wish you'd lighten up. Have a little levity, it used t'suit you. You used t'smile," Gambit said, his own smile dropping off his face.

Rogue closed her laptop and stood. "Ah have responsibilities."

Gambit sighed, defeated. "Yeah, and everything is an angst-fueled agonizing decision. **So** serious."

"Or Ah could pretend like everything's just peachy, like you do. Causing chaos wherever Ah go with a shit-eatin' grin on mah face. These kids have enough disruption in their lives. Quit playin' games. Be an example. This is a school," Rogue told him.

"Most schools have playgrounds," Gambit replied. "And shouldn't kids have an example of what a normal relationship looks like? You used t'like hangin' out wit' me. Now you avoid me like de plague. I thought we could be friends."

"Ah think it's a little more complicated than that," Rogue said as she began packing up her laptop.

"It doesn't have t'be," Gambit said.

She gave him a deadpan look. "Ah don't see things your way."

He held out his hand. "You could," he said, "and easily. Go ahead, let's hold hands. I don't have cooties."

Rogue regarded his outstretched hand for a moment, then shook her head. She picked up her laptop bag and left the kitchen. Gambit watched her go. It was a familiar sight.

"Ta da!" Gambit announced, flourishing his arms towards the door through which Rogue had disappeared. "Watch as The Great Gambini makes women magically disappear! Now for my next trick..." Gambit turned to the cupboard above the refrigerator. It was too high for ball-busting pipsqueaks like Kitty to reach. Though Gambit had once caught the trans-fat hunting Logan dragging a chair over to the cupboard one late night.

"Aw, does widdle Wogan need a boost to reach him cookies?" Gambit had said in a baby voice.

Gambit was then invited to ingest excrement and perish while having his head banged against the tile floor.

Gambit now opened the magic cupboard to find that all his cookies had vanished. He leaned his forehead against the refrigerator door and whimpered.

"What's a matter, poor dog? No bone?" asked a voice.

"I'll give **you** a bone," was his automatic response.

"That was too easy," JOANNA said. Gambit looked over at her. She was leaning up against the wall holding a box of Girl Scout cookies in her hand. She put a cookie in her mouth while he watched with desperate longing.

"Sometimes you gotta go for de low hanging fruit," he informed her. "What happened to my stash?"

"Hank divested it," Joanna said. "Along with anything else edible in this house."

"Well, where'd you get them?" he asked, nodding his head at the cookies she held in her hand.

"I have someone on the outside," Joanna replied. "Her name is Heather. She's nine. She and her gang own the Home Depot parking lot turf."

Gambit pouted at her. "Can I have one?" he asked pathetically.

"Only because you look so pathetic," Joanna said and offered him the open end of the box.

Gambit removed a cookie from the box and regarded it. "Too bad there's no milk," he said and put the cookie into his mouth.

"Tell me about it. Skim milk? Bleagh. More like water someone waved a cow's udder at. And if you think that's bad, you should see what's in the pantry." Joanna walked over to the pantry, opened it, and removed an eight-pound tub from the shelf. She set the tub on the counter.

"Sun Butter?" Gambit read the label. "What's that? Some kind of suntan lotion?"

"It's a replacement for peanut butter. Because what the students need to worry about isn't being incinerated by the Phoenix Force, it's _peanut_ allergies," Joanna said. "We can't even serve P, B, & Js anymore."

Gambit picked up the tub. A happy sun smiled at him from the label. "Is it any good?"

"Of course it isn't. It tastes like crap...but hey, on the bright side, it's also more expensive!" Joanna said and ate another cookie. She chewed for a moment then said: "This place is worse than The Vault. These people are sadists. Hank even switched us all over to decaf."

"No wonder you all's so crabby," Gambit said.

"What are you even doing here?" Joanna asked.

"I ask myself the same question everyday," Gambit responded.

"No, I mean, _why_ are you here? You're not on the schedule. I wouldn't be here if I didn't **have** to be."

"You got something goin' on right now?" he asked, looking at her box of cookies.

"I thought I'd go bang my head against a wall until I lost consciousness," she said and reluctantly offered him the box again.

Gambit grinned at her and took the box. "I know a better way to achieve de same result," he said and fished out another cookie.

"Oh yeah?" she said, and snatched the cookie box back from him.

"I haven't stolen anything in de last fifteen minutes or so...and I happen t'know Logan's got a half-bottle of Glenlivet left in his office."

Joanna regarded him with a smirk. "He'll know you stole it," she said.

"Mebbe," he said. "But he'll need proof. I just need someone t'take care of de security cameras for say-I dunno, a minute or so..."

Joanna tossed the empty box into the garbage bin. "I think I might be able to arrange that. Won't he smell you in his office though?"

"Is Bobby around?" Gambit asked.

"He's teaching his boring class," she told him.

"Great. Meet me at de boat house in fifteen minutes."

"_Fifteen_? It'll take you **that** long? You're losing your touch," Joanna said.

Gambit grinned. "First I need t'visit wardrobe. Costume change for de next scene."

CUT TO:

INT. BOAT HOUSE – DAY

"Are you not entertained?" Remy asked, his arms spread wide. A bottle of Glenlivet was clutched in one hand, a single shot glass in the other.

"Bravo," Joanna said, clapping. She had tossed several life vests into an empty rowboat which bobbed in the water beside the interior dock. She was sprawled in the bottom of the boat, cushioned by the life vests. "What in god's name are you wearing?"

Remy modeled the loud Hawaiian shirt. It was from Bobby's wardrobe. "Bobby wears so much Axe Body Spray there's no way Logan'll smell anything but Arctic Blast X-TREME in his office for de next three days."

"Ugh, take it off," Joanna said, pinching her nose.

Remy pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it on the dock. His TP Badge dropped against his chest.

"Looks like you got TP'd," Joanna said.

"Meh," he said, looking at it with dismay. "The dreaded Badge of Shame. The branding of irresponsibility."

"Big deal, so you forgot your stupid badge. It's a dumb arbitrary rule."

Remy pulled the lanyard over his head and dropped it onto the shirt. He hopped down into the boat and sent it rocking.

"Sit down, you're rockin' the boat," Joanna said and Remy plopped down onto a life vest.

He poured her a shot glass and handed it to her. "Cheers," he said, and she clinked her glass against the bottom of the bottle. He took a swig from it. Remy leaned back against the cushion of mildewing life vests and propped his feet on either side of the boat. Joanna stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles over Remy's midsection.

Joanna sipped from her shot glass and considered him. "Before we get too far into this bottle, remind me that I have to remind _you_ that we're supposed to chaperone that field trip to the museum tomorrow."

Remy leaned his head back and stared at the cobwebby ceiling overhead. "Did you have t'remind me just this second?" he asked.

"I'm supposed to come get you at your apartment," Joanna informed him. "Bright and shiny."

Remy frowned. "Are you chaperoning de chaperone?" he asked.

"I think we're supposed to babysit one another," Joanna said and finished her shot glass. "Here, refill me."

Remy complied. "I wonder why Rogue assigned this field trip t'me if she doesn't even trust me t'show up."

"No one else wants to herd twenty whining kids through the Met, and anyway, you live right around the corner from there."

"And yet I still need you t'hold my hand while crossing de street," Remy complained. He pulled another drink from the neck of the bottle.

"Why do you care so much about what they think?" Joanna asked. "You used to just do whatever and not give a crap."

"Hmn...I dunno. Must've acquired a conscience at some point," he said and continued to stare at the ceiling while the boat rocked. "But I probably care more about what they think than anyone cares about what I think."

"Ya think?" Joanna said sarcastically.

"I know what **you** think, it's plain as day. Everyone always knows where they stand wit' you. It's nice havin' you around."

"Yeah, great. Misery loves company," Joanna said.

"I'm not miserable. Maybe just a little fed up."

"How about bored?"

"Yeah, that too," he took another swallow. "It's good you're here. Just don't make my same mistakes."

"Gosh, there's so many to choose from. Was there one in particular I should avoid?" Joanna said with false interest.

Remy pulled off her flip-flop and ran his thumbnail over her instep, causing her to shriek and spill the remains of her glass onto her chest. "Aren't you so funny? You can take over as comedic relief," he said.

"Your last mistake was doing that with my legs so close to your groin," she warned.

"My **biggest** mistake was having any _shame_ for my mistakes," he sassed back. "You got de right idea. Don't ever apologize. It'll make you seem weak. You don't want t'show them your belly because they'll gut you like a fish. Literally. Just ask Wolverine."

She showed him her empty glass. "Hit me," she said. "And have another drink yourself. Are you sure this stuff isn't truth serum?"

He pointed at her with the neck of the bottle. "I should've owned up and worn my past like a badge of honor. No regrets. Maybe then I'd look like a man of conviction instead of a coward."

Joanna said: "So basically what you're saying is you should've acted like Magneto."

Remy refilled her glass. "Seems t'work for him. Everything's comin' up roses for that guy."

"You couldn't pull it off. You don't have what it takes to make that schtick for you," Joanna said and threw back the shot.

"I certainly don't have what it takes to pull off a helmet, cape, and purple panties," Remy replied.

They ruminated on Magneto's uniform for awhile, staring up at the ceiling. Remy's hand rested on Joanna's ankle. The boat rocked them into a stupor. After awhile, the late afternoon sun came out and lit the interior of the boat house with a soft golden light.

Remy rubbed his face with his palm. "What time is it?" he asked.

"What **day** is it?" Joanna groggily responded. "Did we just time travel?"

Remy sat up and set the empty bottle onto the dock. "I guess maybe I should go. Thanks for the cookies." He pulled himself from the boat and climbed onto the dock.

"I'll hook you up with my dealer," she said. Remy took her outstretched hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Here," he said, bending to retrieve the TP Badge from the dock. "Could you return this for me?"

Joanna reached for the badge, felt herself tilt forward in the boat, then drew back to correct her balance. The TP Badge went 'plop' as it fell in the water. They both looked at the tiny bubbles that emerged on the water's surface as the badge sank out of sight.

"_Eff_," Remy said.

Joanna stepped out of the boat. "Are your profanity filters on?"

Remy sighed and sat on the dock. He pulled off one of his boots.

"What are you doing?" Joanna asked, watching as he pulled off his other boot and then his socks.

"I'm goin' in to get the damn badge."

"Just leave it! Who cares?"

Remy pulled his tee-shirt over his head and dropped it onto the dock. "With my luck, some Loch Ness Mutant will find it in de bottom of de lake, use it to get past security, and drown the student body in slime. And who's fault will that be? Mine...as usual!" He stood and unbuckled his belt. "Turn around," he told her.

"You've got to be kidding me. I've seen you bare-assed before."

"Yeah, well this water looks cold, and my boys are heading northward," Remy informed her. He picked up an oar and pushed the boat away from the dock.

"Ah, shrinkage," Joanna said and turned to face the opposite direction. There was a splash and she turned. "How's the water?"

"Yup, it's cold," he responded in a higher voice.

Remy circled the place where the badge had sunk. He took a breath and disappeared under the water. Joanna leaned over the dock to watch. A moment later Remy reappeared.

"Find it?" she asked.

"Nope," he said. "Just a bunch of mucky slime."

Joanna pulled her shirt over her head.

"What are you doin'?" he asked looking up at her as she unclasped her bra.

"I'll help. I'm taller than you. I can reach the bottom." She kicked off her flip-flops and shucked her jeans and underwear.

"I suddenly don't feel so cold now," Remy said, treading water.

Joanna slipped into the water. She moved to the place they thought the badge had fallen. Joanna looked skyward as her feet felt around on the silty lake bottom. "I think I found it. I'm standing on it."

"Can you pick it up?" he asked.

"I'm trying. It's too slimy."

"Hold on," he said, then disappeared under the water again. She felt his hand wrap around her calf then follow her leg down to her ankle. He claimed the badge out from under her foot and returned to the surface.

"Got it!" he said. His hair was plastered down over his face. Remy reached up looped the badge over his neck. He turned back to Joanna. They grinned at one another.

"Since you got that, now you want to get _some_?" she asked him.

He cocked his head with a smile. "I know how that goes, Jo. Bein' with you is like goin' into a revival tent. You don't quite know what to expect when you go inside, then de next thing you know you're writhin' around on de ground speakin' in tongues."

"Would you like to have a religious experience?" she asked and paddled closer.

They were face to face in the water. His expression turned serious. "Joanna...," he began.

"It doesn't have to mean anything," she said. She put her hand to the side of his face and pressed her mouth to his. He kissed her back for a moment, then drew away.

"But it will mean something," he said quietly. "You have feelings for someone else. I have feelings for someone else."

"And neither of them cares one way or the other what we think, you said so yourself."

"I don't want to mess up de only relationship I have where I can be myself," he told her. "And say what I want to say."

"What relationship is that?" she asked testily.

"Yours and mine," he said. "I value your friendship."

Joanna regarded him with a stunned expression on her face. "You're a Skrull, aren't you?"

He laughed and pulled himself out of the water. Joanna braced herself on the dock's edge and heaved herself out as well. Remy wrung out his hair.

"I hate the sensitive Gambit," she said.

"Yeah, that guy's a spineless wuss."

"Oh, this is **too** perfect!" said a voice from the recesses of the boathouse.

Remy and Joanna looked at one another with dawning horror and then in unison turned their heads to regard the interloper.

One of the students, QUENTIN QUIRE, was pointing his cellphone camera in Remy and Joanna's direction. "This is going right up on YouTube," he announced.

Joanna slowly stood. "I suggest you make peace with your god," she told him and began to walk towards him with panther-like menace.

Quentin slowly lowered his phone, realizing that a naked woman was approaching him. His expression changed from malicious glee to bafflement. He gaped at Joanna's breasts.

"Uh-_daghh_..." he said, stunned.

Remy stood. "Consider yourself blessed," Remy informed Quentin. "Those'll be the last things you see before your life flashes before your eyes."

Joanna grabbed the phone from Quentin's limp hand and tossed it over her head. Remy caught it, charged it, and flung it into the lake. It exploded with a splash. Joanna seized Quentin by his shirtfront and slowly lifted him into the air. Just then, the boathouse door flew open. WOLVERINE was silhouetted in the doorway by the afternoon light.

"Ruh-roh," Remy said.

Wolverine entered the boathouse followed closely by Kitty and Hank.

"Oh my god," Kitty said and put her hand over her eyes.

Hank sighed a put-upon sigh. "Joanna, please release the student-that's it. Carefully now."

"I don't even _want_ to know what is going on in here..." Logan began. "What I **want** is to have my whiskey back and for the both of you to get the hell out of my sight."

"First put on some clothes!" Kitty blindly demanded.

"I got my badge, see?" Remy held the badge out from his neck and dandled it.

"And the whiskey is drunk," Joanna said, her fist still bunched in Quentin's shirt. He was drooling slightly.

"Mommy," Quentin said weakly.

Logan turned to Kitty. "You owe me a bottle."

"Widdle Wogan wants his bottle!" Remy cried.

Logan picked up an oar.

Remy pointed at him and announced: "I regret nothing!"

Remy was then invited to go propel himself into the loch.

FADE OUT


	4. Lights, Camera, Action!

ACT TWO

Scene A

FROM BLACK:

INT. GAMBIT'S APARTMENT, NEW YORK, UPPER EAST SIDE – NIGHT

Remy found his apartment dark and empty. He walked into the living area. All the papers and Post-Its had been cleared away. From here he could see the fridge in the kitchen. The tablet had been removed from the fridge door. He looked at the door to Cecelia's room. It was open and the room was vacant. Remy sighed and then lay face down on the couch. Well, this was the perfect ending to a perfectly crappy day. He supposed he should go to his bedroom, set his alarm for 6:00 a.m. and go to bed. Times used to be he'd only just now be starting his day. Now he was thinking about going to bed at ten. He moaned into the couch cushion.

He'd been laying there for several long moments when he heard his apartment door open. He heard the clink of keys as they were set in the dish on the table. Remy decided to pretend he was asleep and spare himself any further humiliation for the day.

"Hey, are you awake?" Cecelia asked.

"Nn-uhn," Remy said and rocked his head back and forth.

"Do you think you can help me with these bags?" she asked.

Remy's Ego and Superego looked at one another, formed a suicide pact, and shot one another. His Id crawled up in a corner and died of neglect. "Mokay," he said miserably into the couch. He sat up, expecting to see her packed bags at the door. Instead he saw she was holding two brown paper bags in either arm and clutched another in her fist.

"Whassat?" he asked.

"Something we normal folks call groceries," she said and began walking over to the kitchen. "I decided to pick up a few things while I was out."

Remy stood and followed her over to the kitchen. He took the bag from her hand.

"That's for you. Lou & Hy's. Pastrami, spicy mustard, right?" she asked.

"Are you a Skrull?" he asked.

Cecelia set the bags onto the counter and removed her tablet from inside one of the bags. "Listen," she said and re-stuck the tablet to the fridge door. "About earlier-."

"Yeah, sorry about throwing the pen," Remy interrupted.

She shrugged a shoulder. "It's not like it was going to hit me anyway." She turned back to face him. "You've been nothing but nice to me all this time..."

Remy rubbed his head. "Ugh. Here comes."

"...And I never said 'thank you.' For your hospitality. For bringing me lunch. Also, the foot massages are great," she said.

"Oh, I do that for all my friends...," Remy said with a smile.

She rolled her eyes.

"You keep doing that, you're going to sprain something," he told her.

"But seriously, Remy. If you were being a dumbass, I would come right out and tell you. I'm not trying to send you hidden messages. And maybe I'm a little bossy-."

"Nah."

"Okay, a _lot_ bossy. But I didn't mean to insult you," Cecelia continued. "Or make it like I don't like hanging out with you, because I do."

Remy leaned against the counter. "I guess I over-reacted."

"You _guess_?"

"I was looking for drama where there wasn't any. It's a force of habit," he said.

"See, told you so."

"Yeah, yeah, bossy-pants," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "So...is this what it feels like to make up?"

"Yes."

"This is nice. This feels...normal."

"Welcome to my world."

"I come in peace," he began. "So...does this mean we can have make-up sex?"

Cecelia raised her eyebrows.

"I hear it's quite good," Remy said tantalizingly.

"Should the first time we have sex be make-up sex?" she asked pointedly. "Doesn't that set a bad precedent?"

"You could get mad at me again and we can have angry sex," he said.

"What about normal sex?" she asked.

"Ooh, what's that like?" Remy asked.

She stood on her toes to kiss him, then pulled away. "Have you been drinking whiskey?" she asked.

"We were out of milk."

Cecelia picked up a carton of milk from inside one of the bags.

"Is that **real** milk?" he asked.

"It's two-percent," she said and walked over to the fridge, opened it and stuck the milk inside. "We're compromising."

He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist as she closed the door. "I'm good at compromising-_positions_."

She turned in his arms to face him. "How many did you get into today?"

"So far...just one," he said. "How'd de apartment hunting go? Did you finish your D.A.?"

"I did."

He asked: "What's de verdict?"

"Well, I did a little more research online. As it turns out, just about every apartment building in the New York City area seems to be infested with bedbugs. Except this one," she told him.

"I _knew_ I didn't have cooties," he said.

Cecelia sighed. "Do you mind if I take advantage of your hospitality for a little longer?" she asked.

"How about I get another kiss?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Cecelia tilted her head back as his lips touched her own. She tangled her fingers in his hair. Their lips parted slightly. "Are you hungry?" she asked quietly against his mouth.

"Starving..." he whispered back. He kissed her hungrily, pressing her back against the fridge. The tablet fell off the door.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I haven't eaten...in awhile," she said.

His mouth moved down her jawline. "I might have been snacking between meals," he admitted.

Her lips found his earlobe. "You should have waited-until dinner was served."

Remy picked Cecelia up and wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her mouth again before turning and sitting her on the counter. "I have quite an appetite," he said.

"Are we going to eat here at the counter?" she asked.

"For starters...," Remy began. "Then I thought we could move elsewhere for de main course. And after that, dessert."

Cecelia slid her hands under his shirt. "Do you think I could be bad and have dessert first?" she asked.

"As long as you don't spoil your dinner."

"You have no idea how much I like to...eat," she told him.

Remy was quiet for a moment while serving Cecelia her dessert. He asked softly: "How is it? Good?"

"Mmm...that's really good," Cecelia said.

"Mmmn," Remy said.

"Oh, that's **so** good!"

"Want more?"

"Yes!..._Yes!_ I'm...having-_dessert_!"

Remy was panting slightly. "You ready for de entree?"

She hopped off the counter. "Let's have a picnic," she said. "It'll be fun."

"Right here on de floor?"

"It's clean enough to eat off of. Let's see what you packed." Remy's belt hit the floor.

"You were right, this _is _fun."

"Do you have provisions?"

"I'm always prepared."

"I didn't realize how much you were going to bring. I don't know if I can have all that."

"Sure you can't have-just a little more?"

"Ooh...I'm so-**full**...!"

"This is a pretty nice spread. Sure you don't want another helping?"

"Oh! I guess I can have...another-_oh my god_."

"I haven't eaten this well in awhile," Remy moaned.

"Are you going to have dessert?" she breathed.

"I'm-about to-! Oh, _damn_. That's **good**."

Cecelia sighed. "We should eat in more often."

FADE OUT

ACT TWO

Scene B

FADE IN:

INT. GAMBIT'S BEDROOM, NEW YORK, UPPER EAST SIDE – DAY

The alarm went off at 5:45 a.m., the compromise between Cecelia's 5:30 and Remy's 6:00. Cecelia was over-warm when the alarm woke her as Remy had gravitated to her side of the bed, the one closest to the alarm clock. Her backside seemed to have a magnetic attraction of its own, since Remy's hands seemed to be affixed there. Cecelia disengaged herself from Remy's hands and pushed back the covers. He made a moaning sound and burrowed himself under the pillows.

Cece stretched. "Time to get up," she told him. She slipped out of the bed.

"Mmhm," he said from under the pillow, his hand blindly reaching out. She slapped it away from her bottom.

"C'mon," she said, tugging back the covers. "You don't want to be late. Get up."

Remy rolled over and rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. "I am **up**...," he said. "See?"

Cecelia looked. Remy wasn't wearing any clothing. Inside her head, the QB in her blue jersey with the #7 and REASON in big bold letters on it was snapped the ball. REASON feinted left, then ran right and made for the opening to run towards the twenty-yard line. From out of no where, #33 LIBIDO tackled REASON. On the sidelines, the coach screamed: "You idiots! You're on the same team!"

Remy sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled up her tee-shirt and kissed her stomach. "Hmm...," he said as he kissed her below her navel. "I'm thinkin' breakfast in bed."

Cecelia's team formed a huddle. "I really need to...," she began. It turned out LIBIDO was intoxicated and belligerent. "I need to shower."

"I could shower you with kisses..." he said, working his way south and tugging on the waist of her shorts.

REASON and LIBIDO were now grappling with one another. Cecelia captured Remy's wrists to halt their orbit around her bottom.

"Me, I don't need a shower," Remy said. "I want t'smell you on me all day."

LIBIDO knocked REASON flat and did a victory dance. The coach threw his hat on the ground and stomped on it. REASON had one last word, however. "Maybe we can compromise...," Cecelia said. "And share the shower."

Remy looked up at her. "If all your ideas are this good, you're gonna have t'stay."

Even though Cecelia was well within what she considered her "Buffer Zone" of time she budgeted to arrive at work on time, she felt strangely calm. She was now in the kitchen, freshly showered, dressed, and waiting for the coffee to brew. She sighed contentedly. Surely all the offerings she had made over the years to the Mass Transit Gods would result in a windfall of good fortune as she made her way to work that morning. She was pouring the coffee in her travel mug as Remy exited the bathroom.

"Were you only wearing clothes these past two months out of courtesy to me?" she asked him.

He was toweling off his hair. "I've decided to return to my natural state now that I've been reintroduced to de wild."

"All part of the catch and release program. Run, boy. Be free," Cecelia told him and made shooing motions with her hands. "Never mind that radio collar around your neck."

"What do you think de Metropolitan's policy on pants are?" he asked.

"If you hang out in the Greek antiquities section, you should be fine," she smiled and sipped her coffee.

Remy struck a pose. "What do you think? Apollo?"

"Go find your fig leaf before your chariot leaves without you."

Remy returned to his bedroom. Cecelia collected her bag and was walking over to retrieve her keys to the apartment when there was a knock on the door. It was forceful enough to rattle the door in its hinges. Cecelia's brow wrinkled in confusion. She walked to the door and peered out the peephole. Joanna Cargill was standing outside, her face screwed up in the usual expression of annoyance.

Joanna raised her fist again while shouting: "Open up, Remy! I know you're in there!"

Cece opened the door before Joanna could pound on it. Cecelia looked at Joanna, or rather, her bust, as Cece was about five-foot-four in her tennis shoes and Joanna stood at least six-foot-something. Joanna sized Cecelia up. It was a quick measurement.

"What are **you** doing here?" they asked one another.

"I'm actually heading out to work," Cece responded and turned. "Remy! Your friend's here!"

"Wait, you **live** here?" Joanna said, angling herself through the doorway.

"For the time being," Cece said. "I like your hair like that. It suits you."

Joanna stared at Cecelia, not knowing how to respond to a compliment. "What?" she said instead.

"_Remy_!" Cece shouted again.

Remy emerged from the bedroom, thankfully dressed this time. "Oh, hey Jo. You're early."

"No, _you're_ late!" Joanna said.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Cecelia asked Remy, glancing over his attire.

"Uhm...no...?" he said uncertainly.

"You can't go dressed like that," Cece told him. "Go put on something respectable."

"He looks fine," Joanna snapped. "C'mon, let's go."

"How is anyone going to tell you apart from one of the students?" Cecelia asked Remy.

"Easy. Students wear uniforms," he said.

"You need a shirt that at least has **sleeves** to go to a museum," Cece said.

"I didn't know the protocol. I've never been to a museum in de daytime," Remy said.

Cece checked her watch. "I've got to go. Have a good day."

"You too, _chere_," Remy responded and went back to his bedroom. "See you at dinner."

Cecelia's face got pink and she sidled past Joanna. "See ya," she mumbled and exited the apartment.

"You've **got** to be _kidding_ me," Joanna announced.

"Whahat?" Remy said from the bedroom. Then: "Help yourself t'some coffee!"

Joanna stomped over to the kitchen and randomly began opening cabinets. "Is that your **girlfriend** or your live-in nanny?" she shouted. She located the coffee cups and picked the largest one.

Remy re-emerged. He was still wearing jeans, but he now had on a shirt with sleeves, a collar, and buttons. He had an untied tie around his neck. "Do you know how t'do this up?" he asked holding either end of the tie.

Joanna set the mug on the counter and walked over to where Remy was standing. "Don't be stupid," she said and whipped the tie off his neck and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. She pointed her chin at the apartment door. "_That's_ who you have feelings for? **Her**?"

Remy grinned. "Have a seat," he said and gestured to the stool at the counter. He went to the cabinet and removed another mug and poured them both coffee.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Joanna said again.

"What? About what?" Remy asked.

"You and _her_? What the heck is that all about? That defies all logic!"

Remy pouted. "Why?"

"It doesn't make any sense!"

"I like her."

"Why?"

"As if that's not obvious...she's smart and funny and not to mention smokin' hot."

"She can't be **that** smart if she's shacking up with _you_!"

"Say what you like about me, but don't talk bad about Cece. We're roomies," Remy responded.

"Yeah right," Joanna snarked and slurped her coffee. Her demeanor instantly changed. "Oh...sweet, sweet caffeinated bliss."

"Feel better?"

"I still can't believe it."

"See it and believe. We like all de same stuff. Music, movies, television...food. Normal stuff. It's nice."

Joanna rolled her eyes.

He regarded her a moment. "You two have a few similarities, actually," Remy said.

"What about Rogue?" Joanna asked.

Remy sighed. "I was hoping we could be friends, but she keeps cutting me off at de knees."

"Friends? Men and women can't be friends."

Remy smirked. "All my closest friends have been women my whole life. Even Courier, though he didn't start off as a woman-hm. It's kinda weird now that I think about it."

"_You're_ weird."

"Cecelia's **normal**...she's easy t'hang around wit'. And zero percent angst," Remy said and drank his coffee. He leaned up against the counter opposite from Joanna. "Also I don't ever have t'listen to Bon Jovi, watch anything on TLC, see de inside of an Applebee's again, and best thing: Cecelia hates driving so I am always in de driver's seat."

"That might be the closest you've ever come to complaining about Rogue."

Remy put his mug in the sink. "You didn't hear nothin'," he responded. "But when it comes t'Rogue's drivin', Magneto is right to bring his own helmet."

Joanna pushed her empty coffee mug across the counter to Remy. "We should probably get going," she said.

Remy looked at the clock over the stove. "Here's de thing...," he began. "We could do de responsible thing and walk a few blocks t'de museum."

"Or?"

"Or...we could ride in style and take my bike."

"I choose Option Two."

"Good. I love a girl on de back of my bike," Remy said.

Joanna stood. "Have you got Cece on your bike yet?"

Remy weighed this comment for any hidden innuendo. "No comment," he finally answered. "And can we keep this on the D.L.? I've had my personal life broadcast 24/7 for too long now."

"But what gossip will I dish with the girlfriends I don't have?" Joanna asked dryly.

Remy pulled out a sports jacket from the closet and grabbed his keys.

"Where's your usual coat?" she asked.

"It doesn't go," Remy said gesturing at his outfit.

Joanna shook her head and sighed. The pair left the apartment and started down the hall to the stairwell. Remy hopped down the stairs singing a nonsense song.

"I forgot how annoying you are when you get laid," Joanna said.

"Deedlee dee doot doo-!" Remy said and jumped to the landing.

Once inside the garage they proceeded to Remy's motorcycle. He straddled it and Joanna climbed on behind him while he hit the starter.

"Why does your hair smell like a fruit salad?" Joanna asked as they waited for the bike to warm up.

"Oh, that's Cece's shampoo," Remy said. "_Sham-poo_. That's a weird word. 'Sham' and 'poo.' Neither of which I want associated wit' my hair."

"Maybe it's **you** who needs to switch to decaf," Joanna groused and Remy pulled his bike from the parking space.

They rode up the ramp to the ground level and pulled out from the garage. Remy looked right and left up the street.

"Is it always this quiet?" Joanna asked.

"Dunno," Remy answered. "I'm never up this early." He pulled out into the empty street. Two blocks down they could see the regular flow of cross-traffic. But there were no cars or people on this end of the street.

"It's quiet..._too_ quiet," Joanna said.

Remy pulled up to a traffic light. They sat and stared at the red light. It remained red for a seemingly long amount of time. "What in de world?" Remy asked.

"The lights must be malfunctioning," Joanna said.

Remy adjusted his rear-view mirror to regard Joanna. "I'll make a right," he said. "We'll circle-oh..._**EFF**_!"

"What?" Joanna asked, looking at Remy in the mirror. His eyes were fixed on something behind them. Joanna turned.

"%& #!" Joanna said.

Behind them hovering a few yards over the street was Exodus. Remy twisted the throttle and released the clutch and the bike's tire squealed on the pavement sending up a plume of blueish smoke. The bike jerked forward a few feet, then stopped even though the engine was roaring. The rear of the bike fishtailed back and forth. Behind them, Exodus was lowering himself to the street.

"Go left!" Remy said and turned the handlebars, "Lean over!"

The bike was turned and arced across three traffic lanes to face the opposite direction, the rear tire screaming against the pavement. Exodus was now in front of them about a half a block in the distance.

"%& #!" Joanna said again.

"Off!" Remy cried. "Get off!"

The bike's tires squealed against the pavement again and Remy propelled them forward towards Exodus.

"What are you doing?" Joanna screamed.

"Frenzy, jump off!" The front of the bike began to glow as Gambit fed a charge through the handlebars.

"Oh $#!%!" Joanna cried and thrust herself from the seat. She rolled across the pavement.

Gambit hopped up so he was perched on the seat. He released the handlebars and sprung from the bike. The charged motorcycle struck Exodus' telekinetic shield and detonated in a fiery crash. Several curbside parked cars were thrown to their sides to land on the sidewalks, apartment windows shattered, and alarms were triggered. Gambit was carried through the air several yards by the force of the explosion in an elegantly executed backflip. It would have been more impressive if he hadn't been wearing dress shoes. When he hit the asphalt, his feet slipped out from under him and he landed on his ass.

"OW!" he cried.

Frenzy ran over to him and hauled him to his feet by the back of his jacket. Gambit regained his feet and turned to run.

"Where are you _going_?" she cried. "Stay and fight!"

"Run and live!" Gambit responded as he pelted down the street.

Frenzy risked a glance back at the streaming plumes of flame and smoke that remained of Gambit's motorcycle. Exodus was parting the fire, gliding slowly forward towards her. Frenzy made a break for it and ran after Gambit.

In the street ahead, several parked cars rose up and stacked themselves like a wall of Tetris blocks. Gambit veered left and dashed down an alley way, Frenzy hot on his heels. They ran to the end of the alley to a narrow access road between buildings. Gambit turned left again.

"Where are we going?" Frenzy called. "We're running in circles!"

"We have to get as far away from Fifth and Seventy-ninth as we can get!" Gambit responded.

"What? Why!"

"Because a bus load of our students is supposed t'be showin' up at de Met any minute!"

"Oh, good point."

Gambit leapt on top of a Dumpster and sprung to a window well on the opposite side of the alley. From there he jumped across the alley to a fire-escape and was up and over the top of the building in seconds. Frenzy had little chance to process this, but only cursed again as she sank her fingers into the concrete wall. She reached up and began to climb, making hand-holds in the side of the building as she went. She hauled herself over the top of the building. Gambit and Frenzy found themselves on a rooftop that was a maze of ductwork and ventilation shafts. There was a wooden water tank supported by steel beams. They stood back to back and circled, searching the area for any sign of Exodus.

Frenzy asked herself: "How did he get **out**!"

"More importantly, what does he **want**?" Gambit asked.

"Other than uniting the mutant race so that we might assume our rightful station over inferior humans?" Joanna asked.

"You and I have contradictory ideologies," Gambit informed her.

"Did your **girlfriend** teach you them big words?"

"We haven't put a label on our relationship," Gambit said. "And I _have_ read books, you know."

"Can we talk about this _later_?"

"**You** brought her up," Gambit responded. "What I mean is what does Exodus want _wit' us_?"

"Recruiting?" Frenzy speculated.

"Maybe you! I'm nobody's Acolyte."

Frenzy snapped: "You wouldn't pass muster anyway!"

"Where's your phone?" Gambit asked.

Frenzy reached for the back pocket of her jeans. "Dammit! It must have fallen out when you pitched me off your bike!"

"Don't blame me!"

"Where's _your_ phone?"

Gambit smoothed his hands down his jacket. "In my other coat," he admitted.

"We are in **so** much trouble!"

"Which is worse: the wrath of Exodus, or Wolverine?"

"Wolverine! I have to _live_ with that guy!"

"Let's see how much longer we get to enjoy living..." Gambit said as Exodus rose into sight one building behind them.

Exodus turned slowly and spotted Gambit and Frenzy below him.

"Surrender yourself," Exodus said.

"Sounds like a tagline for a feminine product," Gambit said.

"_Calgon_, take him away!" Frenzy cried and swung her arm at the steel girder holding the water tank in place. The tank pitched forward with a groan and squeal of rending metal. It struck Exodus and the rooftop with a crash. Gallons upon gallons of water roared from the shattered tank, engulfing the rooftop and flooding that of the adjacent building.

Frenzy held her ground but Gambit had to leap backwards as the water rushed past. He landed on the building's ledge and pinwheeled his arms to keep his balance as water poured over his feet. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of emergency vehicles fast approaching.

"We have t'get this guy away from the residents," Gambit said. "Before anyone is killed!"

"Let's just take him out now!" Frenzy said and rent a girder from the wreckage.

Exodus had emerged from the wreckage, no more worse for wear than he had been when encapsulated by flames. Frenzy sent the steel girder hurling towards Exodus. Exodus languidly raised a hand and the girder came to an abrupt halt in midair.

Gambit glanced behind him. The next building was at least another story taller. Below was an alley. Gambit heard the scream of metal as the girder was torn down its length into two long, ragged spears. From the building ledge, Gambit leapt out over empty air. His hands reached for the ledge of the next building.

He suddenly found himself propelled forward to slam against the building wall; the twin spears of metal pinning him face-first against the concrete. He was stuck fast to the wall, the two steel spikes just under his armpits. Gambit felt the hot burn of pain across right midriff from where one of the girders had cut him. He was otherwise unhurt save for the painful sting of having his nose mashed against a concrete wall.

"Gambit!" he heard Frenzy cry.

Gambit kicked out against the wall, raised his arms, and twisted his body. Once free of the coat he plummeted straight down several stories. He snapped a clothesline, hit the side of a metal fire escape and crashed into an open Dumpster.

"Oh...that's gonna leave a mark...," he moaned from the Dumpster's interior.

There was a sudden crunch of breaking pavement as Frenzy hit the street. She ran to the Dumpster and peered inside. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"No," Gambit said and reached out a hand.

Frenzy hauled Gambit from the Dumpster. He was bleeding from his side and from a head wound. When she set him on his feet, he sagged. Frenzy looked upwards. Exodus had not yet appeared.

"Can you walk?" she asked.

"Ow. Ow. Ow," he said with every step.

Frenzy cursed a blue streak. "What are we going to do?"

Gambit gasped, his hands on his knees. "He wants us alive," he panted. "He could've killed me easy."

Frenzy considered this. "We should split up," she said.

"Circle back," Gambit told her. "Find a phone...any phone, and get de X-Men on de line. I will lead him off..."

"Off where?"

Gambit straightened with a wince of pain. "Downtown. T'Central Park. Morning joggers are usually prepared for dis kinda thing, right? Dog attacks, dead bodies...Omega-level mutants?"

"Jesus H. Christ," Frenzy said. Exodus was hovering above them.

"Go-go-go!" Gambit said and ran down the length of the alleyway. Frenzy bolted in the opposite direction.

Gambit didn't have his cards; they were in his other coat. He didn't have his reflexes; he was too badly hurt. At least he had his wits. He was now running through rush-hour foot traffic and hurdling past cabs, trucks, and cars. He had three city blocks to go before he made it to Central Park. He veered westward, hoping to put as much distance between the Metropolitan Museum of Art and himself. The Manhattanites who were interrupted in their usual busy schedules had only a moment to lambast Gambit before realizing he was being pursued by a much **bigger** interruption.

Gambit wondered why, oh, why couldn't the Avengers, Fantastic Four, Spiderman, or hell, even _Daredevil_, come and help him now? He needed some kind of sigil he could shine into the sky that signaled his dire need for assistance.

"Aaugh!" he screamed instead.

He took the next right. Central Park was two blocks distant. He ignored the screaming pain in his knee, the twinge in his side, and the blood that stung his left eye. Gambit ran like his life depended on it, because it did. He did not need super-powered villains pursuing him, that was not his deal. He threw playing cards for crying out loud. This was ridiculous.

"Morn-ing jog-gers...!" he exclaimed as he blasted through a pack of them. "Run away! I mean..._really_! Run **away**!"

Central Park was an idyllic break that was significantly cooler and calmer than the surrounding city rush. Gambit had a moment to assess his surroundings. He saw joggers, mommies with strollers, and homeless people. He bolted across an open expanse of grass towards a stand of trees. Behind him trailed a bright flare of charged air, grass, and dirt. He hoped it would be enough to warn people away.

Once within the surrounding trees he paused to take a breath. It was a mistake. He suddenly realized the amount of pain he was in. Gambit stumbled forward a few steps. Looking on the ground he found nothing but leaf litter and twigs. Nothing that would make a useful enough **bang**. The trees swayed in an unnatural way, parting and bending as if bowing before a king. Gambit seized a fallen branch and brandished it.

Exodus descended, borne by his telekinetic abilities to hover some distance above Gambit. Gambit pointed his stick at Exodus.

"_En garde_," he said and wielded it like a rapier.

Exodus looked at Gambit impassively. "Do you think to challenge me?"

"I hear you're a man of honor," Gambit said. "I figure you'd be willing t'meet me as an equal on de field of combat."

Exodus waved and the stick was whipped from Gambit's hand.

"Ah, fisticuffs then," Gambit said and raised his fists. "Put 'em up...!"

"How are you able to evade my telepathic attack?" Exodus asked. "Where is your mind?"

"Must've left it in my other coat," Gambit said, dancing backwards in and olde-tyme boxer fashion.

"You think to delay me," Exodus observed, "until assistance arrives. Believe me, I want nothing more than for the other X-Men to come to your aid."

That chilled Gambit's blood. "What do you want?" he asked. "We're just here t'raise up some kids. You want de big guns, you're on de wrong side of de country."

"I am here to settle a debt," Exodus said. Gambit found himself flung backwards against a tree. "If I cannot grasp your consciousness, then I will settle for your unconsciousness."

Gambit gagged and struggled against the invisible force that cut off his air. There came the sudden crack of splintering wood and the trees overhead shook; leaves came tumbling through the air. A tree trunk whipped through the air, striking Exodus in the side and sending him flying. Frenzy grasped the broken tree like a baseball bat.

"Joanna!" Gambit gasped.

"Ah," Exodus said as he stood. "_There_ you are."

Gambit dropped to the ground in a boneless heap.

Frenzy raised the tree again hoping to smash it down on Exodus' head. The tree ceased its momentum and came to an abrupt halt. Exodus ripped the tree from Frenzy's grip. She stood, breathing hard, waiting for Exodus to strike. Exodus casually walked to where Gambit lay on the ground. He bent and seized Gambit by the shirtfront and lifted him. Together, they rose into the air.

"Stop!" Frenzy cried. "What do you want!"

"In an hour's time, I will be east of here. You will find me at a strip mine fifty miles distant."

"**What**? In _New Jersey_?" Frenzy exclaimed.

"Bring the X-Man Rogue."

"No!" Frenzy said. "Let him go!"

"Bring me Rogue, Joanna, and I will release this one," Exodus held Gambit in his grip. "She is nothing to you. For some unexplainable reason...you value this one more."

Frenzy was frozen, uncertain of what to do.

"Obey," Exodus said. "It is your instinct. You are only a soldier, after all."

With that, Exodus rose into the air with Gambit in tow and vanished from Frenzy's sight.

FADE TO BLACK


	5. Captured On Film

ACT TWO

Scene C

FADE IN:

INT. THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL, SALEM CENTER, NEW YORK – DAY

Rogue was on her own. As a one-woman army with the combined powers of Wolverine, Cannonball, Marvel Girl, and Iceman, she would have no problem defending the school should anyone attack. The school itself was empty. The students had left over an hour ago, albeit forty-five minutes late to their scheduled field trip. There was the fiasco of herding twenty semi-comatose teenagers onto a charter bus, locating several missing permission ships, settling three arguments over seating arrangements, and dosing one car-sick Broodling with Dramamine. At last, Hank, Paige, and Kitty had managed to get the bus loaded and on the road. As it turned out, their lateness was fortuitous. Apparently, New York was under attack by an unknown mutant not three blocks away from the Met.

Down in the lower level of the school, Rogue was encamped in front of several monitors watching national news reports, the 24/7 grind of cable news, and several local channels. Reports were coming in a continuous wave of blather...there was no real information other than two or more mutants were involved in an altercation in New York's Upper East Side. Wolverine had taken the remaining teachers in the X-Jet and roared off to see what all the fuss was about. On one screen, a helicopter camera panned over the block of a residential street. A smoldering wreck of twisted metal lay in the center of the street. The reporter was describing the damage to the surrounding area.

"We have just received an exclusive eyewitness account," said reporter Trish Tilby on one screen. Rogue increased the volume and focused her attention on the monitor. "Amateur video from a neighboring apartment captured _this_ scene of two mutants battling across the rooftop-."

The screen displayed a shaking image of the side of an apartment building. The recording, likely taken by a cellphone camera through an apartment window, panned up the building just as a rush of water cascaded over the rooftop. The camera bounced several times and then focused on one figure standing alone on the roof's ledge. The lens attempted to focus several times. When it finally zeroed in on the figure, Rogue gasped. It was very clearly Gambit. He was perched on the roof ledge, his arms out to his sides as he tried to regain his balance. He then turned and leapt out over empty space. For a moment the camera lost track of him, but then from the right flew two projectiles.

Rogue clapped her hands over her mouth as she watched twin spears impale Gambit, pinning him to the side of the building. "Holy $#!&!" cried a voice captured on the recording and the camera abruptly panned up to show the ceiling of the cameraman's apartment. The camera was steadied and panned back to the rooftop. Gambit was gone leaving nothing but his coat and a smear of blood. "Did you see that?" asked the cameraman's voice. "Did you **see** that?"

The report cut back to Trish Tilby. In the small vignette beside her head, the amateur video began to roll for a second time. "The video captured one mutant and an unknown assailant on the roof of an apartment building located in the Upper East Side. Residents of the Fifth Avenue blocks between 83rd and 79th are warned to remain indoors until city officials can assess the danger."

Rogue felt her body jolt as she watched Gambit get impaled a second time. Did she just witness Gambit's death? Where was he? Who was attacking him? Rogue paused the live footage to stare at the two metal spikes in the side of the building; metal spikes that had flown through the air by an unknown force. She had a sudden panicked thought. Magneto wouldn't go out of his way to attack and kill Gambit for no reason...would he? That the thought even crossed Rogue's mind made her feel sick to her stomach. Rogue tried Gambit's cellphone. No answer. She tried Frenzy's phone. The call went straight to voice mail. The video was playing again, this time on several stations, at different speeds, and at different times.

Rogue's inner-self envisioned being at the scene, rescuing Gambit with one arm and pounding her fist through the face of whoever it was that had hurt him. Rogue's inner-Cannonball was blasting around and around inside her skull as inner-Wolverine was going into a berserker rage while inner-Marvel Girl dragged on his arms trying to calm him down. Inner-Iceman watched it all and ate a sandwich. Outwardly, Rogue was the picture of calm as she sat in one of the leather-padded chairs at their meeting table.

Wheeling the chair over to the computer console, she picked up the phone and dialed.

"Where are you, Hank?" Rogue asked. "Ah thought you'd be back by now."

"On the side of I-684," Hank said over the sound of traffic. "Bit of trouble with the bus. I'm afraid we're experiencing some mechanical issues. I should have us up and running again soon, once I discover what the problem is."

"Hank, be careful," Rogue said.

"Any word on who is causing the calamity in town?" Hank asked.

Rogue watched the video monitors. "No," she responded. "Hurry home."

She couldn't leave her post until she knew the students were back safely, or at the very least, someone was here to take over for her. But Rogue was desperate to leave. How Gambit (and probably Frenzy) had ended up in this situation was not in Rogue's carefully laid plans for this afternoon. They were supposed to be chaperoning the students at the art museum. She'd purposely chosen Frenzy because Rogue knew Frenzy would treat it as a mission and tolerate no teenage shenanigans. She'd be on alert and on guard the entire time with that look on her face that said: _Don't EFF With Me_. The students were typically well-behaved in her presence and even Quentin Quire seemed to have been cowed by her. Rogue assigned Gambit to the task because he knew the museum backwards and forwards and there would be no worries about students getting misplaced. The kids also seemed willing enough to talk to him because he spoke to them as equals, and would never judge them, lecture them, or condescend to them. Rogue had thought it all through. What she hadn't thought of was that Gambit would be dead before noon.

The emergency phone rang. Rogue snatched it up. "Hello?" she asked breathlessly.

"What is going _on_!" yelled a voice. Rogue held the receiver away from her ear.

"Who is this?" Rogue asked.

"Is he dead?" asked the voice. "Has he been **killed**?"

"Is _who_ dead? Calm down and talk t'me!"

"He was _supposed_ to be going to the museum. He should be at the museum. I can't believe it. He'd better not be dead," the voice was serious now, speaking with rapid fire authority.

"He's not dead!" Rogue finally yelled. "Who _is_ this? How did you get this number?"

"Not dead?" the voice asked. "Is he there? Is he hurt? Does he need medical attention?"

"Hey, Doctor Reyes!" called another voice in the background. "They're showing it again! Your man is snuffing it on national television!"

Rogue startled: "Wha-? Is this...Cecelia?"

"Shut up, Lydia!" Cecelia shouted. Then in a calmer voice: "I can help. I'll be right there." She abruptly hung up.

Rogue stared at the phone. What in god's name was that all about?

From above came the cool automated voice of the school's security system. "Alert. West entry gate compromised," said the voice with calm authority. Strangely enough, it sounded a bit like Cecelia but without the Bronx accent. One of the displays switched from the news to show a diagram of the school and grounds as seen from above. The west gate was blinking red. "No security badge detected," continued the voice. "Authorized personnel to escort visitor to reception."

A second and third monitor switched to the video surveillance cameras showing two angles of the same scene. A dark SUV was barreling up the curved driveway. In the distance, Rogue could see the west gate as it hung off its hinges. Rogue keyed in a command to activate the school's defenses. She waited until the SUV was locked in the sights of one of many armed missiles and readied it to fire. The SUV crashed into the front steps of the school and the driver kicked the the door clean off the vehicle. Frenzy spilled out of the driver's seat. Rogue quickly disabled the missile and bolted for the exit.

Rogue ran down the hall towards the aircraft hangar. She slapped the red button that opened the hangar doors and before they opened entirely, Rogue blasted herself into the sky using Cannonball's powers. She arced over the house to the front entry. Frenzy had all ready made it to the top of the steps and had burst through the front door. Rogue touched down on the landing and ran in after her.

"Joanna!" Rogue called and Frenzy turned.

Frenzy seized Rogue by her upper arms. "You're here!" she exclaimed. She was out of breath.

"What happened?" Rogue demanded. "Where is Gambit?"

"Exodus!" Frenzy gasped. "He has him! He took him! He's going to **kill** him!"

Rogue had one moment to feel relief that Gambit was still alive, but then the fear returned. "What does _Exodus_ want with Gambit?" she asked.

"I don't know! We have to _go_!"

Rogue felt uncertain. One instinct told her to fly to Gambit's aid, the other told her to stay put. She hesitated. "Where?"

"New Jersey!" Frenzy shouted. "A strip mine! We don't have much time!"

"Frenzy...Ah don't-the school..."

The cool voice spoke again: "West entry gate compromised."

"I **know**!" Rogue shouted.

"Security badge detected: Hank _Lovebug_ McCoy," the voice intoned with a sigh.

"For crying out loud with the stupid security programming!" Frenzy shouted at the voice. "Get over her, Hank!"

Rogue grabbed Frenzy by the wrist. "Let's go." Then Rogue blasted skyward dragging Frenzy along with her.

CUT TO:

EXT. INTERSTATE-684, NEAR SALEM CENTER, NEW YORK – DAY

Cecelia hated driving. Like many New Yorkers, she did not own a car. She didn't see the point of having a vehicle that cost money she didn't have to park in a city she didn't want to drive in. Cecelia did, however, have a Zipcar membership for those few times she actually had to leave the city. She was driving one now, a Toyota Prius. New York traffic was terrifying, and Cece's natural instinct was to drive defensively. It did not work to her advantage in this offensive environment. When she finally made it to the interstate she thought things would be better. But then every time a semi-truck barreled past her tiny hybrid she would give a little inhaled scream of fear and clutch the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. She was driving at least fifteen miles under the speed limit and drivers were blaring their horns, making impolite gestures, and threatening to murder her. Cecelia grit her teeth and drove on.

She was about forty-five minutes outside of the city on her way to Salem Center when she spotted something a mile or so in the distance on the side of the road. As she was all ready driving well below the speed limit, it was no big deal to slow down further. She turned on the hazard lights. There was no mistaking the large, blue-furred form of Hank McCoy standing alongside a broken-down charter bus. Cecelia turned the car onto the berm just after passing the bus, then backed up slowly. Hank stood at the rear of the bus, the access panel to the bus engine was open. There were grease stains on his white shirt. He ambled over to the passenger side of Cecelia's vehicle. She rolled down the window.

"Cecelia?" Hank said, his expression perplexed.

"Hank," she replied. "Everything okay?"

"Timing belt," Hank said. "I think. I've called in a service vehicle. At the moment we are waiting for another bus to arrive and retrieve the students. What are you doing out here?"

"I'm going to the school," Cecelia explained. "Gambit's been hurt."

"Yes, I've been made aware of the situation," Hank said. "Master Quire has been mashing up the online video of the attack on Gambit for the last half-hour to the amusement of no one. Well, perhaps young Julian was entertained the first fifty times he watched it."

Warbird had emerged from the bus and was picking her way along the berm towards them, a sword clenched in her fist.

"Can I give you a ride?" Cecelia asked Hank.

Hank turned to Warbird. "Would you please let Kitty and Paige know I'm returning to the school?" he asked. "And your weapon in unnecessary."

Warbird nodded and then peered into the Prius. "Will this puny vehicle bear your significant mass?"

"We shall see," Hank opened the passenger-side door and squeezed into the vehicle. "This is cozy," he said and grinned at Cecelia.

Cecelia turned off her hazard lights and clicked on the left turn-signal. Hank waved to Warbird. Cece studiously stared at the rearview mirror, watching traffic blast past. When at last she saw a clearing, she began to pull forward. A huge black SUV appeared out of nowhere with a blare of its horn and nearly side-swiped her. Cecelia shrieked.

"Would you prefer if I drove?" Hank asked.

Cecelia pried her hands off the steering wheel. "Yes!"

Hank climbed back out of the car and Cecelia clambered over the center console to sit in the passenger seat. She sighed with relief when Hank took her place in the driver's seat and pulled them out into the stream of traffic. Cecelia took several calming breaths.

After a few moments Hank spoke: "Thoughtful of you to so quickly come to the aid of one of our fellow teammates."

"Mm hm," Cecelia responded, staring out the passenger-side window.

"You know we would love to have you, should you decide to leave Mercy Medical..."

"Thanks for the offer," she answered.

"You seem so eager to lend a hand-we could easily accommodate you as far as living quarters and salary, and we offer a very generous benefits package."

"Again, thanks. The school seems well-staffed, and the hospital needs me."

"We do have an eclectic mix of talent, don't we?" Hank began. "Though several of us wear _many_ different hats. Your expertise would certainly lift some of the burden from my shoulders."

Cecelia looked at Hank. "I don't think you'd know what to do with yourself if I came in and took over the medical clinic," she said.

"As you were on your way to help with Gambit's treatment, I only assumed you might have reconsidered a place at the school," Hank answered. "And I wouldn't necessarily want to abandon you on your own managing the clinic, though naturally I would value your input."

"Uhm hm."

"So if you're _not_ reconsidering a role among us...might I speculate that your concern for my fellow X-Man might be more than just professional devotion?"

"What makes you think that?" Cecelia said lightly.

"You've left work," he observed and gestured to her scrubs.

"I took a personal day," she said.

"You're driving a car," Hank said.

"I was driving. Now you're driving."

"That you even attempted it surprises me. And a little bird might have mentioned something about you and Remy seeing quite a bit of one another lately."

Cecelia ground her teeth. "Would that little bird be around five-foot-three, covered in dark hair, and have claws?"

"I have to protect my sources," Hank responded.

"That nosy little bird's goose is gonna be cooked," Cecelia said.

Hank sighed. "Cecelia...you know I care for you-."

Cecelia propped her elbow in the windowsill and leaned her cheek against her fist. "Here comes..."

"And it is only out of concern that I tell you this-."

"Let me guess: You want to tell me you think Gambit's a jerk?"

Hank paused for an inappropriate amount of time. "That certainly wouldn't be my exact phrasing," he began.

"Sigh," Cecelia said.

Hank held up a finger. "Now, I do believe Gambit's heart to be in the right place. That he is motivated, for the most part, by the best of intentions. Good intentions, but he perhaps does not have _your_ best **interests** in mind."

Cecelia said: "Mm, hmm." Inside her head, the marching band had taken the football field. They were marching in formation to spell out her name. As the tuba player dotted the I, the brass horns blared her team's fight song.

"I can understand how a young woman might find him charming...certainly _physically_ attractive..." Hank went on.

On the sidelines, Cecelia's team was fired up. They rallied, shouted their team slogan and ran onto the field. "So...," Cecelia began. "You're assuming I'm a woman who is too dim to realize when she's being schmoozed...that I've not been involved with _charming_ men in the past."

Hank backpedaled. "I'm certainly not making presumptions about your intelligence. But I know you to be a **serious** person. I'm advising you not to take Gambit's advances too **serious-lee**. The last thing I want is to see you hurt."

"Maybe I'm not as serious as you seem to think I am," Cecelia said. "God knows I can use a little levity considering the hell I've been through. I can only take so much doom and gloom, most of it self-inflicted. And I happen to enjoy taking a break from all that, the hospital, or having my brain **think** on and on and on and on..."

"You appreciate _lack of thought_?"

"I'm **exhausted**. And it's nice being with someone who hasn't dedicated their every breath to being a hero," Cecelia said.

"I suppose being a part-time thief is a more appropriate expenditure of time," Hank responded dryly.

"I've almost got him convinced to start volunteering at the hospital. He's very good with children and the elderly."

"Cece, please don't get your hopes up that Gambit will ever change or even alter his lifestyle," Hank said.

"I think if you'd offer him some _responsibilities_ you'd be surprised at what he's capable of," Cece said.

"Yes, he was certainly full of surprises yesterday," Hank said flatly.

Cecelia considered this. "I wondered what kind of trouble he'd made for himself."

Hank opened his mouth, then closed it.

"What?" Cecelia asked.

"Nothing," Hank said and turned onto Greymalkin Lane.

"What happened to the gate?" Cecelia asked as they drove through the west entry.

"Oh dear," Hank said. Just then, his cellphone chimed. Hank shifted in his seat to try and retrieve it from his back pocket.

"Hellooo...," Cecelia said. "Drive the car. Don't answer the cell phone."

"This is an emergency situation," Hank told her. "And we're in the driveway."

"Technically, we're in the grass right now. And this is a rental. _My_ rental."

Hank corrected his steering and pulled out his phone. "It's a text," he said and handed her the phone. "Read it, would you?"

Cecelia looked at the cell phone screen.

"There's an SUV crashed into the front steps," Hank observed as he slowed the vehicle.

"Oh no," Cecelia said.

"Bobby will be none too thrilled to have to deal with the insurance-."

"Hank, stop," Cecelia said and showed him the cell phone. "Does this mean what I think this means?"

Hank put the car into park. Taking the cell from Cecelia's hand he read the incoming text.

On the screen appeared the message: From Anna Marie:_ "gtg save G frm exods. brb."_

FADE OUT


	6. Wardrobe Malfunction

ACT TWO

Scene D

FADE IN:

EXT. DUNLAP EXCAVATING, NEW JERSEY – DAY

"What are you doing?" Frenzy asked irritably.

Rogue and Frenzy were crouched in the scraggly brush surrounding the huge craggy expanse of a strip mine. They were several yards from the edge of the mine and hiding out of sight. Rogue had her cell phone in her hand. "Ah'm droppin' a pin," Rogue said quietly.

"A what?"

"A pin...on GoogleMaps. So the everyone will know where we are," Rogue explained. "Ah'm texting it to the others."

"Why don't you log in to FourSquare while you're at it? You can become the Mayor of Dulap Excavating."

"Will you hush?" Rogue said and returned her phone to her pocket. She began to creep forward towards the edge of the mine. Frenzy followed. They crawled forward on their elbows and knees and then surveyed the open pit before them. Rogue was using Marvel Girl's powers to telepathically conceal her's and Frenzy's presence. Below stood Exodus. He was standing stock-still, his arms crossed over his chest. Gambit lay in a crumpled heap on the ground at his feet.

"What does he want?" Rogue whispered.

"Just you," Frenzy replied.

"Whatever for?"

"Can't say I know."

"Is Gambit badly hurt?" Rogue asked her.

"He _did_ fall off a building," Frenzy explained. "And then got chased several blocks before getting knocked flat by a telepathic assault." She hesitated, then added: "Which was kind of my fault."

Rogue looked at her. "This is very clearly some kinda trap."

Frenzy's face was grim as she stared down into the pit. "I didn't know what else to do. I was just..."

Rogue began to scramble backwards. "Ah know. C'mon."

Together they retreated a distance from the mine's edge. "Circle 'round that way, t'the other side of the mine. Ah'll wait 'til you're in position. Ah'll distract Exodus until you can get Gambit out of the way."

Frenzy nodded, then turned and began running around the circumference of the mine. Rogue crept forward again. Below she spied Exodus as he looked upward to regard the sun. Rogue slowly raised herself to all fours as Exodus turned away to face the opposite direction. Exodus very casually toed Gambit's unconscious form and rolled him over onto his back. Gambit lay there motionless. From this distance, Rogue could see the bright red stain of blood on his white shirt. She chewed her lip while waiting for Frenzy to make it to the other side of the mine. Exodus was now crouching over Gambit. Rogue rose to her feet and then blasted into the sky with an explosive bang.

The sound drew Exodus' attention as Rogue soared over the expanse of the open mine and came to a halt, hovering with the aid of Marvel Girl's telekinetic abilities. She hung in the air several yards away from Exodus.

"This is the worst blind date Ah've ever been set up on," she called. "You know, Ah'm flattered, but Ah'm kinda seein' someone else."

Exodus regarded her with an expression that might have been carved from granite. "You jest, but you are in part responsible for bringing low the once-great leader of mutantkind."

"Really?" Rogue quipped. "And here Ah thought Ah was bein' a positive influence."

Rogue raised her arms and twin arcs of ice soared over Exodus' head. The ice curved down to then gracefully arc upwards again to create a slide ending at the opposite edge of the mine. Exodus turned to watch the ice slide form. Frenzy leapt from the edge of the mine to land on the ice slide, her feet cutting a swath of frost as she slid down it. Rogue telepathically nudged Gambit. She felt him wake. His eyes opened, but he continued to lay still.

Exodus turned back to Rogue as she blasted again, her outstretched fists aiming directly at Exodus' face. Exodus raised his arm. He tossed something from his hand which caught the light of the late day sun. It fell to the rocky dirt. A golden rectangle of light appeared in the air before Rogue. She couldn't stop her blast in time and flew right into the light and then vanished.

Gambit sprung from the ground and pulled his tie from his shirt pocket. He leapt onto Exodus' back. Gambit looped the tie around Exodus' throat and held both ends in either hand.

"I know you're well nigh invincible," Gambit growled into Exodus' ear. "But you damn well need t'breathe air. I suggest you bring Rogue back **now** or I let go of de charge I'm fillin' your lungs wit' as I speak."

Exodus' gagged and one hand moved to the tie around his throat. The other hand raised; a gold coin was gripped between his forefinger and thumb. Gambit lunged for the coin and Exodus used his attacker's momentum to toss him forward into the dirt. Gambit rolled across the ground and came to his feet, scooping up several stones with one hand and putting the coin between his teeth with the other. He glanced backwards at the portal Rogue had disappeared through. It was beginning to flicker. Gambit tossed the charged stones at Exodus before bolting to the portal and diving through it. The doorway instantly disappeared.

Frenzy pounded across the dirt towards Exodus. He slowly turned towards her, a somewhat dazed look on his face. She came to a stumbling halt. Exodus opened his mouth. A prolonged, powerful belch emanated from Exodus' throat. Then he toppled forward to land face-first in the dirt at Frenzy's feet.

From above came the sound of the X-Jet's screaming engines. Frenzy raised her arm to block the sting of flying debris from her eyes. In the fading sunlight, Frenzy spied a gleam of light in the swirling dirt. She crouched and picked up a coin. It once was gold, but now was singed black along the edges. Frenzy smoothed her thumb over it, smudging away the black soot. She looked at the face imprinted on the coin.

"Eff," she said.

FADE OUT

ACT THREE

Scene A

FADE IN:

INT. SPIRAL'S BATH & BODY WORKS SHOPPE, THE WILDWAYS – DAY

To say that Gambit was incredibly uncomfortable would be an understatement. _Agonizing torment_ was a slightly more accurate description. Still, it could be worse...and it was about to be. He was strapped down to a large metal table that held him at a forty-five degree angle. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was otherwise nude. From the ceiling above dangled an assortment of body parts which hung in sections grouped by arms, legs, torsos, heads, tails, fins, tentacles, et cetera. There was also a wall full of scented candles, body scrubs, and lotions with names like "Sand Dune" and "Strawberry Mojito." As disturbing as _that_ was, it was not nearly as horrifying as the cart SPIRAL wheeled out from behind a curtained back room. She whistled a merry tune as she steered the cart towards Gambit. Spiral parked the cart between Gambit's table and the table that held his teammate Rogue, who lay in a state of blessed unconsciousness.

Spiral first looked at Rogue and then turned to look at Gambit. She put one set of fists on her hips and stared down at Gambit with slitted eyes. "Why are you still conscious?" she asked.

"I have a high tolerance for pain," Gambit informed her.

"I should have guessed," Spiral said as she buttoned a white lab coat over her silver bustier. "Just having to _watch_ your relationship with Rogue was **painful** enough. Can't imagine what it must have been like to actually _experience_ it."

"Hey," Gambit said. "That ain't nice."

Spiral shrugged one set of shoulders. "Well, it'd go easier for you if you passed out," she said. "Trust me, you don't want to be awake for this."

Gambit cringed. "Why? What're you gonna do?"

"You're experiencing a few slight body modifications. We can't have you conducting any gross human bodily functions while on camera," Spiral said.

Gambit gritted his teeth through the pain of something unpleasant happening in his stomach. "What's all that stuff?" he asked, pointing to the cart with his chin.

Spiral stuck a wooden spatula into a vat of yellow goo. "This?" she said, pulling the spatula out with a long strand of goo stuck on the end of it. "This is wax." She turned to Rogue.

"What're you doin'?" he asked as Spiral removed the towel from around Rogue's waist.

"Hunh," Spiral said to herself. "Looks like the carpet matches the drapes. That's just **weird**."

"What are you _doing_!" Gambit shouted at Spiral's back. She had the spatula of goo in one of her six hands. She applied the goo to Rogue's immobile form.

"Waxing," Spiral said. "One of the many services I offer."

"Don't **do** that!" Gambit said as another one of Spiral's hands took up a paper strip. Spiral applied the paper strip to Rogue's inner thigh.

Spiral ripped off the paper strip. "There," she said. "That's better!"

"Stop! You-_sadist_!"

Spiral looked over her shoulder at Gambit and rolled her eyes. "Oh, give me a break. It's just a little hot wax. People pay good money for this."

"Some men prefer a woman who looks like a **woman**!" Gambit told her.

"Get with the times, Gambit. This isn't 1980. _Everyone_ waxes..._everything_," Spiral applied more wax to Rogue's nether region. "Here, out of courtesy to you, I'll make it into a shape. A stripe to match the one on her head."

"You're insane!"

The paper strip went: _rrrippp_! "There we go!" Spiral said, admiring her work. "Now I'll just send her to the spray-tan booth." Rogue's table raised to a ninety-degree angle and began to move along a track in the floor. The table turned around a corner and slid into a booth. Etched glass doors sealed Rogue inside and she vanished from sight.

"Okay," Spiral said. "Now you."

"What?" Gambit said, his eyes getting wide as she came at him with the wax spatula.

"I said: _everyone_ waxes," she said and smeared a glob of hot wax between Gambit's eyebrows. She mashed a paper strip down and ripped it off.

"Ow!" Gambit shouted. "What did you do that for?"

"Getting rid of your unibrow," Spiral said.

"I **don't** have a unibrow!" Gambit shouted.

"Not anymore you don't," Spiral said looking at Gambit's forehead. One of her hands snaked out with a pair of tweezers and neatened her work.

"Ow! _Ow_!" Gambit cried, tears in his eyes now.

"Shut up, you big baby," Spiral told him and picked up the wooden spatula again. She smeared a swath of wax across his left pectoral muscle.

"No! Stop! You bit-OW! Sweet baby Jesus!"

"C'mon, Gambit. Take it like a man," Spiral told him and applied a second paper strip.

"I **am** a man! Men _have_ hair! I'm not a Ken Doll!" Gambit yelled in near hysterics.

"Women today have certain expectations. It's called 'manscaping'," Spiral informed him. Her six hands made quick work of the rest of Gambit's chest. He screamed the entire time until he broke down into whimpers. "There you go. All done. You can stop crying now."

"I'm **not** crying!" Gambit yelled at her.

Spiral consulted a chart she had on her cart. "Hm...well, this part is calling for a blond..."

"Don't you **touch** my hair!"

Spiral regarded Remy's hair for a moment. "You'd look terrible as a blond, I have to admit. But maybe we can put in some highlights. Give you that sun-kissed look."

"This can't be happening," Gambit said to himself, his expression bleak.

"A few foils won't hurt," Spiral said as she took up a plastic bowl and began mixing an assortment of liquids into it. One hand held the bowl, two others added chemicals from tubes and bottles, and yet another stirred with a flat brush. "Mixin' up the magic!" she sang.

Gambit tried to twist his head away as Spiral grabbed a hank of his hair in her hand. She used the brush to slop and paint on the chemical mixture. She neatly folded a silver foil strip into his hair. Gambit had lapsed into a state of shock.

"So...," Spiral said conversationally, "what's Longshot been up to lately?"

"Damned if I know," Gambit said, watching as she folded another lock of his hair into a foil packet.

"Is he still...with Dazzler?" Spiral asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"I try not to mind anyone else's business," Gambit told her. "And wish that others would extend de same courtesy t'me."

Spiral made a face. "You must bore your stylist to tears," she said.

Gambit snapped: "I don't have a _stylist._ I go to a barber. **Men** go to_ BARBERS_!"

Spiral applied a few more foils to Gambit's hair and then patted his head with one of her hands. "We'll just let you sit for a minute or two. Now let's see what I've got to work with." She whipped off the towel from around Gambit's waist. He winced.

Spiral touched a finger to her chin. "Hm...," she began.

"What?" Gambit asked, nervous.

"Well...," Spiral began. "The good news is...you won't need any augmentations."

"Uhm...thanks...?" Gambit said hesitantly.

"The bad news-," from somewhere behind Spiral came a chiming sound. She looked startled for a moment, then pleased. "Oh! That's lunch."

Spiral turned away and walked over to a dumbwaiter. She slid open the door.

"Lunch?" Gambit asked. "It's lunch time all ready?"

"Doesn't matter what time it is," Spiral said and picked up the tray with her lunch on it. "This is Murderworld. We _only _**do** lunch here." She walked her tray over and sat it on the cart. "Now, as I was saying. The** bad** news is...you're looking a little-shall we say: _European_-below the belt."

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," Gambit responded.

"What I'm trying to say is that our viewers will be expecting a man who's...trimmed," Spiral explained and picked up a device from her tray. It looked like an O of plastic with a pair of handles resembling those of a pair of scissors.

"Please don't wax me any more," Gambit begged, his face blanching.

"Oh, no. I don't mean **that** kind of trim," Spiral said and turned towards him with the implement in her hand. "Now...be prepared to join the ranks of God's Chosen People! _Mozeltoff_!" She squeezed the implement's handles. There was a 'click' and several sharpened points appeared inside the O.

Gambit's eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness.

"Ha! _That_ got him," Spiral said and turned to her lunch. She put the implement to the top of her soft-boiled egg and snipped the top off of it. Spiral picked up a toast point and stabbed it into her egg. She put the toast into her mouth and looked at Gambit while chewing thoughtfully. "I wouldn't kick **that** to the curb. I'd be sure to keep it in the garage. Hot damn, that's one fine ride."

BING said the spray-tan booth. Spiral finished her toast and wiped her hand on her lab coat as Rogue slid out of the booth, evenly bronzed.

"Oh, that's **much** better," Spiral said and picked up the clipboard from the cart. She walked over to Rogue. "Now we'll get you into wardrobe."

Several racks full of clothing slid out from the surrounding walls. On the table, Rogue moaned and her eyelids fluttered. One of Spiral's hands selected a garment and offered it up as a suggestion. Spiral consulted the chart, then looked at the garment.

"Nah," she said.

Rogue opened her eyes and looked at Spiral. "Whu-what?" she muttered. "What's happenin'?"

"Wardrobe," Spiral said. "After that..._makeup_!"

Rogue blinked as another one of Spiral's hands offered a second outfit. "Nope," Spiral said. "_This_ is what we're going for..."

Spiral pulled an eight by ten glossy photo off the clipboard and held it up by Rogue's face. The photograph portrayed Rogue as a much younger woman wearing a leather bikini top, loin cloth, and headband. Rogue's eyes rolled to the left, trying to see the photograph. "What _is_ that? What is that a photo of...!"

"I'm going to call it..._Savage Land Chic_!" Spiral announced and showed Rogue the photo.

"No...!" Rogue breathed. Then loudly: "_**NOOOOOO**_!"

FADE OUT

* * *

_Stay tuned to find out what happens next...and if you're in the mood for something darker, with lots of drugs, sex, and rock 'n roll, you can read my other story in progress: Living With the Dead (rated M!)_


	7. It's Showtime!

ACT THREE

Scene B

FADE IN:

INT. THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL CONFERENCE ROOM, SALEM CENTER, NEW YORK – NIGHT

Wolverine reamed Frenzy down one side and up the other. To her credit, Frenzy took it like a champ, her face immobile even as Wolverine had pulled over a step-stool to scream directly in her face. "Irresponsible...endangering civilians...destroying apartment buildings...stealing vehicles...why you didn't pick up a damned phone...!" When Wolverine was done, Frenzy turned on her heel and marched out the open door, but not before putting her fist through a wall.

Then there was the call in to Utopia.

"Woulda been nice if you'd let us know you'd let Exodus out of the X-Brig," Wolverine told Cyclops. Cyclops was staring out of the screen, his call relayed by Skype. He was sitting at a table, his mouth set in a petulant frown.

"What _are_ you talking about?" Cyclops responded. "We didn't let Exodus out. He's sitting right there in his cell-."

From behind Cyclops they could spy the robotic torso of the X-Brig's warden, Danger, approaching the camera.

"You don't have him, _we_ do!" Wolverine said, pointing at Cyclops. "In our medical clinic!"

"That's preposterous!" Cyclops announced.

"Cyclops," Danger intoned.

"Not now, Danger," Cyclops waved dismissively.

"What kind of operation are you running out there?" Wolverine demanded.

"Cyclops," Danger said again.

"What _is_ it?" Cyclops snapped. Danger set what appeared to be a red-painted mannequin head down onto the table. Cyclops stared at it.

"What is _that_?" Cyclops asked.

"I attempted to question the prisoner," Danger said. "And his head fell off. That almost never happens."

Cyclops looked at Wolverine. "We'll send someone to pick Exodus up." The call disconnected.

Cecelia didn't have much to add to the debriefing that took place in the conference room of The Jean Grey School. Beast had begun a long-winded explanation of Exodus' medical condition which Cece interrupted with a curt: "He'll live." Wolverine seemed to be thankful for the brief summation. Shadowcat was video conferencing with Reed Richards about trans-dimensional teleportation while simultaneously trying to reverse-engineer the transport coin that had vanished both Rogue and Gambit into thin air.

"So what we've got is one nutjob in critical condition, two X-Men taken to Murderworld, and a shit-load of other problems to go along with that," Wolverine concluded. "Our priority is figuring out where in the Murder_world_ they might be, and the logistics of finding out a way to get them back."

"Can we consult Longshot or Dazzler?" Marvel Girl asked.

"Longshot's an amnesiac," Husk explained.

Iceman consulted his cellphone. "And Dazzler's last Facebook post has her jaunting off to some other galaxy," he said.

"Crap," Wolverine said.

"Once I figure out the coordinates programmed into this transport coin," Shadowcat said as she typed into a computer, "we can find out where Rogue and Gambit landed."

"That's great," Wolverine said. "But we need to know how to get there ourselves and then what to expect when we get there."

"We can conduct some basic research from here," said the Shi'ar bodyguard Warbird. She raised an arm. In her hand she held a remote control. She depressed a button. "Prince Kubark demanded upon his departure that he have access to the premium cable stations we enjoyed on our home-world."

"Who's your service provider?" Iceman asked. "Time _Warbler_ Cable?"

Several people groaned. "What?" Iceman said. "C'mon! It's a pun. Get it? Warbler like the bird...because the Shi'ar are descended from birds-."

"Robert," Beast interrupted. "It isn't clever if you have to explain the meaning behind it."

"I'm giving you people comedic **gold** here!" Iceman exclaimed. "I should take my talents elsewhere!"

Warbird did not get the joke. She instead turned on the television and opened up the menu. She flipped through several stations. "I do not know the channel number on Earth," she said. "Ah, this is it. Murderworld programming is on channel 666, MOJOTV."

"We get Mojo's station now?" Iceman asked and sat up in his chair. "What's Shi'ar HBO look like?"

Channel 666 was currently airing a show about toddler-aged beauty queens who did hand-to-hand combat in a cage-match scenario. Cecelia turned away and covered her eyes with her hands.

Warbird looked at the remote buttons for a moment until Iceman snatched the controller from her hands. He began pressing the button to scroll forward in the menu's schedule.

"Wait," Shadowcat said. "Slow down, you're going too fast. No one can read that!"

"I can," Iceman said, pressing the button repeatedly as the menu screen flashed past in a blur.

"Bobby! Stop!" Cecelia cried. "Go back one screen!"

Iceman paused, glared at Cece for a moment and then reluctantly pressed the back button.

"There!" Cecelia said and pointed. "Look!"

Iceman stopped on a show titled: _Paradise Lust: Oceans of Passion! _They read the show's description.

"_P__art-Bachelorette, part-Survivor, part-Hunger Games. With no escape, our heroic pair must reunite or face an angry island goddess' lust-fueled wrath_," read the description. "_Starring the X-Men's Rogue and Gambit_!"

"**That** has got to be the stupidest title I have _ever_ seen," Iceman said.

"I believe it to be the producer's clever play on the title of Milton's epic poem _Paradise __**Lost**_, which details the fall of man in the Garden of Eden," Beast said.

Iceman made a face. "'_It's not that clever if you have to explain the meaning behind it_'," he pompously mimicked. He pressed another button on the remote. Three green "thumbs-ups" appeared on the screen.

"What are you doing?" Shadowcat asked.

"I'm giving it a thumbs-up," Iceman explained. "So that the TiVo will record it."

"No!" Shadowcat exclaimed. "Don't _do_ that! Just set it to record. God knows what TiVo is going to recommend to us now!"

"You and you," Wolverine said, pointing to Iceman and Warbird. "Will do the reconnaissance and watch the show. Take notes. You and you," he then pointed at Beast and Shadowcat, "figure out the mechanics of this operation. Find a way for us to get Rogue back-."

"And Gambit," Cecelia added.

Wolverine waved a hand. "Yeah, him too, I guess. We'll meet again at 10:00 p.m. after the show is over. The rest of you, figure out what to do with twenty over-stimulated teenagers. Me, I'm going to get a beer."

"What about me?" Cecelia asked.

"Why are you here again?" Wolverine asked. "Never mind, don't care."

Cecelia stared after him, her mouth agape. She stomped out of the conference room after Wolverine. Wolverine was turning in one direction, so Cecelia turned in the other. She continued down the hallway until she found herself in front of the staff room. The door was open so Cecelia walked in. It was a nicely appointed room with lounge chairs, a kitchenette, and several cubicles. Frenzy was standing in front of the sink and staring out the darkened window.

"Hey," Cecelia said to her back. "You okay?"

Frenzy glanced over her shoulder. "Just peachy," she said dully.

Cecelia hesitated and then walked forward to put her hand to the back of one of the chairs. "If it's any consolation, I probably wouldn't have done any different than you."

Frenzy slowly turned to face Cecelia. "As a mater of fact, that's no consolation _at all,_" she snapped. "You're not a soldier...you're not an X-Man...you're _**nobody**_! Nobody but a pathetic loser pretending to live a human's life! Do you think spending all your time stitching up humans makes you a hero? Well, you're _**not**_! You don't make any difference! You're someone who won't acknowledge being a mutant. You won't even help your **own** kind! So take your meaningless platitudes and shove them up your ass!"

Cecelia gasped as if she'd been slapped. "You-!" she began. "Like you have any place to be judging **me**? You're a criminal and a murderer! I cannot **believe** I even tried to be nice to you!" With her shields she shoved Frenzy against the kitchenette counter.

"Oh, you _**did**_ _**not**_ just shove me!" Frenzy said, her eyes growing wide.

"Oh yeah, I did," Cecelia responded, her chin thrust forward. Suddenly, the Bronx was representin': "Wha'chu gonna doaboudit?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Iceman suddenly said from behind them. "Ladies! Let's just calm down here! Let's not fight...now, how about we pop us some popcorn, have a seat, and watch us some television."

Both women turned to look at Iceman, who would have melted under the force of their combined glare if he'd actually _been_ ice at the time.

"How about I **pop** your pointy head off your scrawny neck?" Frenzy asked.

"Do you think this is **funny**?" Cecelia snapped and jabbed her finger into Iceman's chest. "Does it _amuse_ you? That your teammates are stuck in a place called _Murder_world? There is something fundamentally _wrong_ with you people and your priorities!"

She stomped out of the room. Iceman stared after her a moment and then turned to Frenzy.

"Logan says she and Gambit are dating," he said. "Can you believe _that_? Hey...so. Why do you look so angry? Wait. Frenzy...! Someone help me!"

The microwave flew out into the hallway to crash against the wall.

FADE OUT

ACT THREE

Scene C

FADE IN:

INT. ARACHNA'S TEMPLE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

When Gambit regained consciousness, he found that he was still immobilized. He was laying on his back on a flat surface, though he was no longer on a metal table but a raised stone dais. He wasn't shackled, but was instead bound in white silk cords. He opened his eyes slowly and cringed at the light. He was now in a shadowy chamber lit by bright sunlight which fell through an open doorway to his left. He turned away from the light and blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

Gambit raised his head. He found he was bound from mid-chest down to his knees. He was wearing nothing but a leather loincloth. There was something strapped to his thigh. With his arms bound to his sides, he could just touch the thing on his thigh with his fingertips. Gambit's head dropped back and he stared upwards. The chamber was made of rough stone. Above was a vaulted ceiling hung thickly with spiderwebs. Something whirred past; a giant insect of some sort about the size of a goose egg. He began to struggle against the bonds, rolling around on the stone table, making little noises of effort. A fine layer of grit stuck to his sweat-dampened skin. It was no use, the bonds were too tight and weirdly sticky. He lay back onto the table and reassessed his options. As he turned his head, he saw a figure seated on the ground with its back against the wall. The figure was staring at him with a joyful look on his face.

"Hey," Gambit said to the man. "Little help here?"

The man continued to stare blankly, his mouth fixed in a gleeful smile. Gambit saw that the man was dressed in some sort of tribal fashion and was covered in spiderwebs. That was when Gambit realized the man was very dead. Gambit's gaze moved along the wall of the chamber. Another equally happy looking corpse was sitting next to the first, albeit in a more apparent state of decay. There was a third man, even more decomposed than the second, as were the fourth and fifth man. Even the skeletal remains of the last figure seemed to have a happy grin.

"Not good. Not good_ at all,_" Gambit said and renewed his struggles. He then saw that the thing strapped to his thigh was a knife. His fingertips clawed at it. When he felt the handle of the blade shift from its sheath, he drew the knife into his hand inch by inch. Once free of the sheath, he pressed the tip of the blade under the cord wrapped around his leg. Very carefully, he slid the blade under the cord, then turned it at an angle, severing the binding.

Gambit relaxed and fell back, gyrating his legs and hips in an attempt to loosen the bonds further. The bonds were just beginning to slacken when a dark shadow blocked out the light. Gambit froze and turned his head to the open door.

A figure stood silhouetted in the bright sunlight. It was very clearly female. Her arms raised and she placed her hands to either side of the door frame. Then a second set of arms raised. A third pair of hands placed themselves on the figure's hips.

"Spiral," Gambit said. "I got serious beef wit' you, girl."

The woman strode forward with a slow, purposeful step. She took another, bringing herself fully into the chamber.

"Another offering!" the woman said happily. She sprang upon Gambit's body with predator-like speed. Gambit found himself face to face with an ebony-skinned woman who was most certainly not Spiral. Her hair was dark red. A pair of jet black eyes stared at him rapturously, as did the six other eyes beading her forehead. All eight eyes blinked one slow blink and the woman smiled, her lips parting to reveal a toothless mouth. Gambit recoiled.

"Uhm, hi there," he began. "I'm in a bit of a _bind_..."

The woman petted the side of Gambit's face. "ARACHNA will help you find releathe," she told him softly, her speech lisping slightly.

"Heh, okay...," Gambit said, his eyes darting to the corpses propped up against the wall.

The woman scooted backwards, her hands trailing down Gambit's torso to his hips. "Thutch a generous offering!" Arachna said. "Arachna ith pleased!"

"Ma'am, it's a pleasure meetin' you as well," Gambit said. "But really-."

The woman leaned over and kissed Gambit on the mouth. She might not have had any teeth, but she definitely had a tongue.

"Mmmph!" Gambit said, his eyes widening.

"Arachna thhall have her fill..." she said and she began moving her lips down to his chin, to his throat, and then down his chest.

"Okay-okay-okay...!" Gambit said, trying to squirm away. The bonds around his thighs had loosened, but one pair of Arachna's hands was resting on his knees. "Now just wait a minute here!"

She looked up at him with all eight eyes. "My offerings are uthually more willing than this. Arachna promithes you will enjoy your thacrifithe." She began kissing his stomach as she slid lower.

"Just what in tarnation do you plan on doin' t'me!" Gambit asked.

Arachna moved lower, her lips now below his navel. "Arachna _drainths_ her offerings," she told him. Her hands abruptly slid up his thighs and under the loincloth. "And feedth upon their virility. Stho that she might be sthustained. Now, close your eyes!"

"Holy-!" Gambit said. Then after a moment: "Help...?" His eyes closed and his mouth opened in amazement. "Oh-my-_god_!" Gambit's arms were now free. He held the blade in his hand. He looked down at the back of Arachna's head. Gambit certainly didn't want to harm the woman, especially with her being so very close to a sensitive region of his anatomy. He wasn't sure what to do. "Oh my god!" he said again.

Another shadow blocked out the light from the doorway. Gambit turned. Arachna sat up and one of her hands wiped her chin. The figure in the doorway was a man, but his features were indecipherable in the gloom of the chamber. The light haloed his head.

"Is this the place guys come to get fellated to death?" he asked cheerfully.

"You'll have to wait your turn," Arachna told him.

"No, no! I'm all done here!" Gambit said and backwards-somersaulted off the table. "Thanks for-_that_, but...I got t'go!"

Gambit bolted for the door. He passed the willing offering on the way out. Once outside, Gambit found himself at the top of a very long set of stone steps. He stumbled down the first few, then turned back to the door. Behind him was a small box of a temple built of rough-hewn golden stones set back into a cliff's face. A pair of six-armed caryatids flanked the open door. There was a spiderweb motif along the top of the temple.

From inside the temple he heard Arachna speak: "Sthhow me your offering!"

"Ta da!" There was a pause, then the man said: "Whoops, sorry about that. Kinda premature on my part."

"Arachna ith _not_ pleased!"

Gambit began to run down the steps.

To the left of the staircase was a sheer drop to a rocky shore, where the ocean waves crashed and frothed. Beyond that was an endless expanse of blue ocean. To Gambit's right was the craggy cliff face, rising hundreds of feet above his head. The stone steps ended at a narrow cliffside path, which followed every curve and crevice of the cliff face. Gambit hurried along it as fast as he dared. When he turned a corner and the temple was out of sight, he paused and put his hands on his knees. He remained thus until he regained his breath. Slowly, he straightened. He slid the knife he carried back into its sheath. He looked to his right and left, then surreptitiously looked under his loincloth. He breathed a sigh of relief. Something whirred past his head and he reflexively slapped it away. He struck the flying object and it fell to the path, its little wings twitching. It wasn't a large bug, as he first believed, but some strange spherical object with wings. A single eye winked at him. Gambit realized it wasn't an eye, but a tiny camera lens. His toe nudged the camera and then he kicked the thing over the edge of the cliff.

Two more cameras dropped into view, buzzing around and staring at him with their expressionless little eyes. Gambit tried to slap them away but they zoomed out of range. As he flailed his arms, he realized there was something on his right bicep. He looked at it. Someone had drawn on him with blue pen. He rubbed at the mark. It was some kind of tribal scrawl of symbols that wrapped entirely around his arm. The mark didn't come off. Gambit licked his thumb and rubbed at the mark harder. It still didn't come off. Realization dawned on him.

"Oh, eff!" he cried, raising his arm and spinning in a circle as if he could escape the tattoo. "My poppa's gonna _kill_ me!"

He picked up a fistful of sand from the path and scrubbed fiercely at the tattoo. He succeeded in making his bicep red and painful. The cameras hovered closer. Gambit fitfully swatted at them and almost sent himself over the edge of the cliff. He hastily backed up to hug the cliff face. Gambit began walking along the path once more. The path seemed to be growing more and more narrow. Soon he was having to walk with his front pressed against the cliff wall. There was the sound of crumbling rock. Pebbles fell onto the pathway. Ahead the pathway had dropped off, leaving nothing but empty space. Gambit looked over the edge to the angry surf below. He looked up. The cliff was very high.

Steeling himself, he took two firm hand holds and pulled himself upwards. His toes found purchase and he began to scale the cliff. The cameras hovered below him; they seemed to have multiplied. Gambit continued to climb. It seemed a good amount of time had passed as he carefully found purchase against the cliff's face. The sun was scorching his back. Sweat stung his eyes. He cursed profusely in several languages. Along the cliff walls, sea birds circled the surf. The cameras hovered. Gambit tried not to think about the angle they were filming him from.

His hand reached upwards and found the edge of the cliff. Gripping it firmly, he brought up his other hand and thrust his elbow forward. With both arms now on solid ground he began pulling himself upwards. The rock bearing the weight of his left foot suddenly gave way and he found himself sliding backwards. He let out a yelp and his hand reached out to grab a scraggly plant. It held for a moment, giving him the chance to throw himself forward. He clawed his way onto flat ground, then lay in the dirt panting. With the relentless sun beating down on him, he turned over onto his back and then climbed to his feet. He surveyed his surroundings.

Gambit found himself at the top of a mountain ridge. Below the mountain dipped sharply down into a bowl of a valley. The mountain was north-facing and shaded, the slopes furrowed and mossy green. In the valley below was a lake. Beyond the lake was a verdant jungle that stretched out for many miles. The jungle rose above the valley in fits and starts, broken here and there by rocky cliffs and waterfalls. Within the jungle was a clearing from which Gambit could make out the faint lines of smoke from several small fires. Past the clearing and at the second highest point of the island was a manmade structure of the same golden stone of Arachna's Temple. This structure was much larger however. There were tall stone walls surrounding a centralized area from which a truncated pyramid rose. Gambit shaded his eyes with his hand and looked out into the distance. Just past the structure rose a tall, tall mountain; the top of which had been scooped out. A plume of dark smoke rose from the mountain.

Just then, the earth beneath Gambit began to tremble. There was a sudden rumbling sound and Gambit stumbled as the ground shook. After a few moments, the rumblings ceased and the ground became still again save for the sound of crumbling rock as bits of the cliff tumbled downward into the sea.

"A volcano," Gambit said looking at the mountain. "Fan-_freakin_'-tastic."

CUT TO:

INT. THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL CONFERENCE ROOM, SALEM CENTER, NEW YORK – NIGHT

The viewers had gathered in the school's conference room for the series premiere. The first five minutes of _Paradise Lust: Oceans of Passion!_ captured more gratuitous shots of bare flesh since the movie _Caligula_. The viewers watched as the leading man escaped an orally-fixated spider-lady and then ran down a cliffside path. Or rather, Bobby Drake and Warbird watched and Cecelia held her hands over her eyes. Hank McCoy and Kitty Pryde argued in the background while dissecting the burned-up transport coin.

Gambit began to climb the cliff. He was being filmed from a very low angle. Warbird regarded the screen for several long moments. She picked up a piece of popcorn from the bowl Bobby held in his lap. "Are all Earth men so well-appointed?" she asked curiously and put the popcorn into her mouth.

Bobby opened his mouth to reply when Cecelia testily snapped: "No!"

Warbird turned to look at Bobby Drake and glanced down at the popcorn bowl in his lap, then she turned to look at the screen again. She looked down into the popcorn bowl a second time and seemed disappointed.

"Hey!" Bobby said and looked at Cecelia. "You in the back! Keep it down, we're reconnoitering here!"

Cecelia scowled at him.

Gambit scaled the cliff-face and nearly fell just as he reached the top. "Omygod," Cecelia said, putting her hands over her eyes again.

"Look! He's _okay_," Bobby said dismissively as Gambit struggled onto solid ground.

For several moments, Gambit lay in the dirt, panting. He climbed to his feet. The camera panned backwards, casting Gambit in a heroic shot as he surveyed the island vista, his hand shading his eyes. He was bruised, scraped, and sweaty, but his hair managed to look _fabulous. _

"How is it he's able to annoy me across dimensions?" Bobby groused.

On screen the earth began to shake and Gambit nearly lost his footing. When the trembling ceased, he said: "A volcano. Fan-_freakin_'-tastic."

Just then, there came the rising sound of rhythmic jungle drums. There was a series of shots in quick succession of native-looking women dancing around a fire (lots of jumping and bouncing was involved), flashes of jungle vegetation, stunning waterfalls, wild animals, then a shot of several loincloth-clad men laying prostrate on the ground. The camera panned up the backs of the bowing hunks to the feet of a young woman. As the camera drew back it revealed Rogue sitting on a throne, wearing what appeared to be two conveniently-placed bandages and a piece of string. Her expression was dazed and she blinked rapidly. Rogue's name appeared at the bottom of the screen just under her breasts.

Rogue looked down in dazed confusion and you could just make out her mouth forming the words: "_What the fu-_?"

The screen jumped back to show Gambit, still standing on the cliff looking around with the same expression of confusion on his face. Then his name appeared over his head. He looked up at it. Suddenly, the camera panned back revealing the expanse of the cliff face. The words: _Paradise Lust_ were superimposed in big block letters on the cliff. Then "_Oceans of Passion!_" was scrawled out over the ocean waves. The jungle drumming came to a dramatic climax, then all was silent.

"You have _got_ to be **kidding **me," Gambit said loudly from very far away.

The viewers watched as Gambit leaned over the north-facing slope. The cameras were positioned behind him now, giving the viewers a dizzying view of the slope from above. Gambit crouched and then began his decent.

"Unbelievable..." he griped as he climbed downward. "Why do these things happen t'me?" He grasped at moss-covered stones and vines, sliding at times on the damp surface. "Of all de stupid-this has gotta be de-_stupidest_-," here Gambit paused, dangling from a vine. "Okay, _second_ stupidest-thing I've _ever_ been involved wit'. Gambit dropped a few feet and slid on some stones. He caught himself and then continued his descent. "I'm done dis superhero crap. I am _done_. Had enough of dis here nonsense. Freakin' Exodus. Eff that guy and de horse he rode in on. I don't need dis bullshit." All the while Gambit bitched, he continued to climb ever downward. When he moved to find his next toehold, he found his foot searching the empty air. He glanced down. He was over a dip in the mountainside. Below him was a small outcropping. "I am a professional thief!" Gambit announced. "I don't belong in dis scenario! I demand respect! This is character defamation! You'd better lawyer up Mojo, 'cause I'm gonna sue you!"

Gambit dropped to the outcropping. He took a moment to look around. "Get me a fancy lawyer. That Matt Murdock guy, yeah. He looks expensive." Gambit paused to look at three large round boulders that were sitting on a bed of dried moss. The boulders were the size of Volkswagen Beetles.

"What're those?" Bobby asked, his mouth full of popcorn.

Gambit was scratching his head while looking at the stones. They were ovoid in shape, mostly smooth but with a faint pebbled texture, and pale brown in color.

"They look like eggs," Warbird observed.

One of the boulders moved slightly. Gambit took a hasty step backwards. He took in the three boulders, the nest of moss, and then he put two and two together. He quickly moved to the edge of the outcropping. There were only several more yards of sheer drop before the mountain sloped gently outwards. Gambit readied himself for the descent when suddenly a gust of wind swept back his fabulous hair.

A shadow fell over him. He looked up and his irritated expression changed to one of surprise.

"Gah!" he cried and leapt for a dangling vine.

"_WAURRK_!" screamed the unseen monster from off camera.

Rocks dropped onto Gambit from above and he slid down the vine. The vine abruptly snapped sending Gambit tumbling through the air. He struck a mossy embankment and then rolled head over heels down the slope. He came to a sudden stop at the bottom of the slope, landing on his side in a large mud puddle.

Gambit rolled onto his back. "Ugh," he said, his face splattered with mud.

From above came another: "_WAURRK_!"

Gambit struggled to his feet and then took several slogging steps through the mud, making towards a line of trees. He stumbled free of the puddle then up a short slope and into the cover of vegetation. Once inside the trees he came to a staggering halt.

"Oh, lord have mercy," he said, panting. "I wish I never got out of bed."

Gambit limped deeper into the forest. From nearby came the sound of rushing water. Gambit came upon a stream and staggered into it. He waded into the center of the stream then dropped to his knees in the water. He splashed water into his face, wiping it free of mud and sweat. Now the cameras captured several slow-motion shots of a very wet Gambit as he slicked back his hair with both hands. The camera followed the rivulets of water down his chest and abdomen.

"This is making me uncomfortable," Bobby said.

"Shush," Kitty said, her eyes now glued to the television. While she was distracted, Hank covertly slid the transport coin and her laptop away from her, assuming complete control over the project.

Gambit began slurping handfuls of water from the stream. He tried rubbing the tattoo off again to to avail. He was breathing hard. "Ow," he said, and put his hand to his stomach. He tried drinking more water, but then gagged.

"What's wrong with him?" Bobby asked.

"Ugh," Gambit said and he leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands and knees.

"He looks like he's going to be sick," Kitty said.

"Hrk-!" Gambit said.

"Oh, gross!" Bobby exclaimed.

"He appears to be regurgitating something," Warbird said, shoveling a fistful of popcorn into her mouth.

Gambit gasped and wiped his mouth with one hand. He stared at his reflection in the water. Gambit blinked a few times, then his hand darted out and seized something from the stream bed. His other arm swung and slapped a camera away. Suddenly the viewers found themselves looking at the sky. When the camera returned to Gambit, he was pulling himself from the stream. Once on the other side, he removed his knife from its sheath. He had something clenched in his teeth. He used the knife to cut a strip of leather from his all ready too short loincloth. Returning the knife to his thigh, he then folded the strip, tucked what he had in his mouth into it, and then tied the strip over the tattoo on his bicep using one hand and his teeth.

"What was that?" Bobby asked.

"Dunno," Kitty said, propping her chin on her hands.

Gambit went back to the stream and gathered a few rocks. He tucked them under the leather strip as well. "Okay," he said to himself. "Now what?" He looked up at the coconut tree he was standing beneath and hauled himself upward. Once at the top of the tree, he surveyed the area. He spotted the signs of a path cut through the jungle growth. Gambit slid back down the trunk and hopped to the ground. He had to cling to the tree for support as the earth beneath his feet began to shake once more. Coconuts began to tumble from above. Gambit staggered backwards as the coconuts dropped all around him.

"Uh oh," Bobby said.

Gambit raised his arms to protect his head a moment too late.

"Ouch," Bobby said in commiseration.

"Agh!" Gambit said, clutching the top of his head. The earthquake rumbled to a stop and Gambit slowly stood. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead from his hairline. Gambit looked at his hand. It was covered in blood. "Oh," he said. He took one staggering step forwards, two back down the embankment to the stream, and then turned and fell face-first into the water.

"Oh no!" Bobby exclaimed and abruptly stood, sending the popcorn to the floor. "Get up Gambit!" he shouted at the screen.

"That is definitely a concussion," Hank said. He too had become absorbed by the show.

The screen faded to black and then to a commercial break. As Hank turned from the show he asked: "Cecelia what do you-Cecelia? Where did she go?"

Kitty retrieved her laptop from where Hank was hoarding it. "Never mind! We got to work on this thing and fast! Before someone is killed! I'm calling Reed Richards again."

"That's unnecessary!" Hank said, trying to pull the laptop back. "I can handle this conundrum!"

"Hank, let go!" Kitty said, slapping at one of his paws.

Bobby paused the TiVo. "Pee break!" he announced. "Then...more popcorn."

FADE OUT


	8. Take Three

ACT THREE

Scene D

FROM BLACK:

INT. THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL MEDICAL CLINIC, SALEM CENTER, NEW YORK – NIGHT

Cece hated reality television. Especially now that it had become a little too real. This was worse than _Jersey Shore_; she now was watching someone (she kinda sorta might have feelings for) get tortured on intergalactic television. Cecelia left the room just after Remy nearly took a spill off the side of a cliff. No one seemed to recognize the horrifying danger Remy was in, or perhaps they didn't care. Cecelia had a small mean thought: she was glad Rogue had been taken too, otherwise the X-Men might have ditched Gambit in Murderworld and there'd be nothing at all Cece could do about it. Never had she felt so completely helpless in a situation. She had absolutely nothing to offer. She could do one thing and she could do it well.

Cecelia walked down the hall to the medical clinic. The doctor side of her checked Exodus' vitals. The vengeful side of her wished to smack him upside the comatose head with the medical chart. Exodus was laying on the bed covered in a sheet. She looked at his stupid face. Cyclops had said he'd be sending someone to come retrieve Exodus and return him to a cell where he belonged. Cecelia hoped it would be soon, otherwise she might strangle him. Exodus had a few belongings which had been carelessly cast to the floor. Cecelia picked them up now.

She bent and picked up the heap of white fabric from the floor. _Seriously, who wore a cape?_ Cecelia thought for a moment. _ Okay, Magneto, _she guessed. She folded the cape over her arm and placed it in a nearby chair. Exodus had to have the most ridiculous getup in the history of mutant villains. She crouched to retrieve his tunic. She picked it up by the shoulders and shook it out. Something dropped to the floor. It was gold and shiny and rolled across the linoleum tiles. Cecelia dropped the tunic and squatted to retrieve the object from where it had rolled under the bed. It was a gold coin. She held it in her hand for a moment. It looked very much like the coin that Hank and Kitty were dismantling. She thought to bring it to them. There as a face imprinted on the coin; a big fat disgusting face. Cecelia mashed her thumb down on it.

A golden rectangle of light appeared before her. Cecelia quickly stood. It looked to be some kind of doorway. Cautiously, Cecelia stuck her index finger into the light. With her shield protecting her, she didn't worry about her finger getting spontaneously chopped off or anything. She retracted her finger and looked at it. It appeared normal. Cece crept closer to the glowing portal, her face inches from the glowing surface. She took a breath and closed her eyes and then pressed her face into the light.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the bright interior of a room that looked like one of those lotion and fragrance shops; only that there were body parts hanging from the ceiling or heaped into dump bins. There were smaller baskets of eyeballs, fingers, noses, and...other bits. There were also two large metal tables in the center of the room. Cecelia took in the surroundings. On the farthest wall was a large bank of monitors, each playing a different show. Someone was sitting in a chair in front of those monitors. The chair turned slowly. Now the occupant faced in Cecelia's direction. The figure was a fairly tall, muscular woman with silver hair. She had broad shoulders, a silver-clad bust, powerful legs, and six-yes, six arms. One of her six hands was holding a bag of cheese curls. Another hand delivered a cheese curl to her mouth and as she chewed, she looked at Cecelia thoughtfully.

Spiral swallowed. "Who're you?" she asked.

Hesitantly, Cecelia stepped through the doorway and into the shop. "Cecelia," she answered.

"Cecelia?"

"Cecelia Reyes."

Spiral's brow furrowed. "What kind of name is that?"

Cecelia blinked at her. "It's...well, spanish."

"No, I mean, what kind of name is that to call yourself? Don't you have some kind of-_I don't know_...alias? Code name or something?"

Cecelia shook her head. "Nope."

Spiral brushed flecks of orange powder off her leg. "What do you do?" she asked.

"I'm a doctor," Cecelia told her.

Spiral waved one of her many hands. "Nononono...what do you do, mutant ability-wise? _Are_ you a mutant? You don't look like a mutant. Not an interesting one anyway."

"I _am_ a mutant," Cecelia admitted. "But I don't really define myself that way."

"Well what's your power?" Spiral asked.

"I can generate a forcefield."

"Does it look cool?"

Cecelia shrugged. "It doesn't look like anything."

"That's boring," Spiral said. "Why are you wearing that horrible outfit?"

Cecelia looked down at herself. "These are O.R. scrubs," she said.

"**Oh**, _**are**_ they?" Spiral asked.

DING!

Cecelia looked around for the source of the sound. "What was that?"

"That was me getting dinged for plagiarizing a joke," Spiral admitted. "What's with the footwear?"

"What, these?" Cecelia said, extending a foot. "They're just white tennis shoes."

"They're hideous," Spiral told her and pointed with a cheese curl. "I wouldn't be caught dead in those things."

"_I_ wouldn't wear a silver bustier, so there you go," Cecelia snapped. Behind her, the golden glowing door disappeared with a _vip! _sound. Cecelia turned and said: "Uh, oh."

Spiral selected another cheese curl from the bag. "Nyeh," she said and stuck the curl into her mouth. "I can get you another one. Send you back. I don't really see you as on-screen material anyway."

Cecelia walked over to the woman. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Spiral," Spiral answered.

"As in: _downward_?"

"You could call me Rita," Spiral told her.

Cecelia looked at all the various monitors. "Are any of these shows actually good?" she asked.

"No, it's all garbage. I _am_ watching this one Earth show though-," she pointed an orange coated finger at one of the monitors.

"Oh, we're watching that too. Don't spoil, we're a few episodes behind. We didn't have cable until the other day," Cecelia said.

"Who's '_we_'?" Spiral asked.

"Remy and I."

Spiral's eyebrow raised. "You mean _Gambit_?"

"How many Remys do you know?" Cecelia asked her.

Spiral stuck her finger in her mouth to suck the orange off. "_You_ and _Gambit_ are watching_ Game of Thrones_-**together**?"

"Yeah. I didn't think I'd like it...I don't really care for that kind of fantasy stuff. But Remy talked me in to it. And it's actually pretty good," Cecelia told her. "Pretty gory though."

Spiral offered the cheese curls to Cecelia who took few from the bag. She ate one and held the others in her cupped palm.

"Do you and Gam-_Remy..._spend a lot of time watching television together?" Spiral asked.

"Kind of," Cecelia said, chewing. "I'm tired after work. I like to veg out on the couch for awhile. And Remy'd been a little long-faced lately. For awhile there, it was hard to get him out of the house."

Spiral's eyes narrowed and she gave Cecelia a sly smile. "Are you and Gambit...a couple?"

Cecelia put the last cheese curl into her mouth and chewed on it. She shrugged. "No. We're just seeing each other...in a not serious way."

Spiral perked up at this piece of gossip. "What about Rogue?"

"Oh, he and Rogue broke up."

"Really?" Spiral said, intrigued. "Well, that's certainly going to make things awkward."

"What?" Cecelia asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Spiral pointed at one of the monitors. A piece of white vinyl tape had been pressed down above the monitor and the words _Paradise Lust: Set C_ was scrawled on it in black marker. On the screen, Cecelia could see Remy crouched in a stream. He was gulping water from his cupped hands.

"Oh! Thank god, he's okay!" Cecelia said, then turned to Spiral. "How do we get him back?"

Spiral looked at Cecelia as if she'd sprouted four extra arms. "You don't _get him back_. He's the star. He's gotta finish the show."

"How will he do that?"

Spiral rocked side to side in her chair. "He can either follow direction...or **die**."

"What direction?" Cecelia asked and pointed at the monitor. "Who's directing this thing?"

"It'll be pretty obvious what he's supposed to do," Spiral said, "come the next scene. I don't want to spoil it."

Cecelia slapped Spiral's bag of cheese curls from her hand.

"Hey!" Spiral said watching as cheese curls went flying all over the floor of her shop.

"Spoil it!" Cecelia snapped.

Spiral scowled. "Well, he's supposed to find the island goddess, sate her passionate hunger, and then live happily ever after. Or at least in syndication. After that...should be a wrap. But there are obstacles in his path."

"Like what?"

"Coconuts," Spiral said, glancing at the screen. "But hey, I have an idea. You could **help** him."

Cecelia put her hands on her hips. "How?" she asked.

"I could send you down there," Spiral pointed at the monitor. "You could go rescue him or something. Maybe it will add viewer interest."

"I thought you said I wasn't on-screen material?" Cecelia said dryly.

Spiral gave Cece a reappraisal. "Right now you're a hot mess. But maybe we can zazz you up a bit. Who can tell what you've got goin' on under all _that_?" Spirals arms made an all-encompassing gesture at Cecelia's ensemble.

"I think this sounds like a bad idea," Cecelia said.

"I think you think too much!" Spiral announced and jumped to her feet. "This will be **fun**! A makeover! _Wardrobe_!"

Several racks of clothes shot out from the surrounding walls. Cecelia hastily stepped back as one zipped in front of her. Spiral began shuffling through the clothing options.

"So...," she began casually. "If you and Gambit aren't _serious_..."

"We're not," Cecelia said and fingered a very sequin-y garment.

"Then you don't mind if I ask him out? If he survives, of course!"

Cecelia stared at Spiral. "Be my guest," she said flatly. "You're just his type: completely nuts."

"Really?" Spiral asked brightly. "You think so?"

Cecelia answered with an exaggerated sigh.

"How about this?" Spiral asked and held up a garment.

"No way," Cecelia told her.

"Won't you even try it?"

"There is no way that is going to fit me," Cecelia said.

Spiral handed her the hanger over the clothes rack. "Just put it on."

"This is ridiculous," Cecelia said, pinching the dark red leather between her forefinger and thumb.

Spiral happily hummed to herself and clapped one set of hands gleefully.

Shaking her head, Cecelia turned and pulled off her top. She then toed off her sneakers and stepped out of her bottoms. Spiral peeked over the clothes rack.

"Do you mind?" Cecelia said with a glance over her shoulder.

"Even your panties are ugly," Spiral said. "Let me get you something else." Spiral waltzed away to disappear behind a curtain.

Cecelia squeezed herself into what appeared to be a red leather vest of some kind. "Oh geez," she said as she tried to stuff herself into the top. There was a gratuitous amount of cleavage no matter how much she tried jiggling herself down into it. Also on the hanger were a pair of matching hot pants.

"No freakin' way," she said.

Spiral reappeared. "_Let-me-see-that thong-th-thong-thong-thong_!" she sang and snapped at pair at Cecelia.

"No, no, no, and no."

"I guess you could go commando," Spiral said.

Cecelia yanked the shorts up over her bottom. Spiral performed an elaborate gesture and the clothes racks shunted back into the walls.

"Day-um!" Spiral cried. "Who knew you had a slammin' bod!" She kicked Cecelia's scrubs out of her way.

"I feel like a sausage," Cecelia said and looked down at her exposed stomach. She pinched her tummy, making her navel a flat line. "Lou & Hy's...look what you've made of me."

"You look great!" Spiral soothed. "Your curves are kickin'!"

Cecelia looked at her dully. "Have you _seen_ the women in the X-Men? One of them wears a _thong_ to work. I couldn't even **describe** to you what Emma Frost wears."

"Oh, I've seen it. What there is of it, anyway," Spiral said. "Let's find some accessories. Then..._makeup_!" A nearby wall turned itself around revealing a mirror and vanity. Spiral seized a leather band and began pulling Cecelia's hair up on top of her head. Another set of Spiral's hands retrieved a necklace made up of pointy teeth and beads. Very bright red lipstick was smeared onto Cecelia's mouth.

When Spiral was finished, she grinned insanely at her accomplishment. Cecelia turned to look at herself in the mirror.

"_Ay __Dios mío,_" she said.

FADE OUT

ACT THREE

Scene F

FADE IN:

INT. THE GODDESS' TEMPLE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

The camera slowly panned up from the feet of the sheet-covered sleeping woman, over her shapely calves and thighs, the curve of her hip to the dip of her waist. It spent awhile hovering over the rise and fall of her breasts, then finally to her throat and up to her placid sleeping face. Rogue's lips were parted slightly and the faintest, cutest snore could be heard emanating from her darling freckled nose. The camera rose above her, giving the television viewers a full-figure shot of the sleeping Rogue. Save for the sheet, she appeared to be in the altogether. She was hugging a Bamf doll under her chin.

Rogue stirred and she pressed her face to the pillow with a small moan. Her hand reached up to comb her hair back from her face. When her fingers touched the unruly curls, she froze for a moment, then blindly began touching the hair on her head. Rogue abruptly sat upright, both hands to her head. Her hair had inflated to mammoth proportions. She attempted to mash it down, realized she was not wearing anything but a sheet, and then quickly covered herself. Rogue looked around. She was on a large king-sized bed draped in a frothy haze of mosquito netting. Rogue wrapped the sheet around herself and scooted to the center of the bed.

Just then, the netting was swept back and Rogue was momentarily dazzled by both the light and the man standing before her. She blinked. The man was tall, broad-chested and square-jawed, with a head full of white-blond hair. Rogue gaped at him.

"Good morning, Your Royal Hotness," the CAPTAIN said.

Rogue pressed down her giant hair. "Uhm," she said beguilingly.

"It is time to rise and greet the day," the Captain told her. "Your worshippers await you. Won't you grace us with your magnificence?"

"Who-? What-?" Rogue continued conversationally.

The Captain took her hand and led her from the bed. Rogue dragged the sheet behind her. She found the bed to be centered in a large opulently adorned chamber. The floor of golden-hued stones was polished smooth and decorated with plush carpets and pillows tossed here and there. There was a large bath surrounded by towels. Rogue gravitated to it and found a silk robe, which she hastily put on. The Captain looked disappointed.

Now somewhat dressed, Rogue turned to him. "Now, who are you?" she asked.

"I'm the Captain of the Guard, your grace," he said with a courtly bow. It did wonderful things for his abs. He was dressed in leather breeches, boots, and nothing else save his sword.

"And what is this place?" Rogue questioned.

"This is your royal chamber, my queen," the Captain explained.

"And Ah have a royal chamber _because_...?"

"For the performance of your royal duties," the Captain responded.

Rogue stared at him with a blank expression. "This is going nowhere fast," she said finally. "Where is the exit?"

The Captain swept his muscular arm towards the open doorway which lead out to bright sunlight. "Your people wish to feast their eyes upon your beauty, Your Royal Hotness."

Rogue sighed and walked to the door. She stepped out into daylight and onto a wide balcony. From this height she could see a large courtyard below. She was standing at the peak of a truncated pyramid. To her right and left, stairs descended the pyramid to the courtyard. Surrounding the courtyard were small simple houses and beyond that a great stone wall. There was a monumental gate in the wall and it was closed. Beyond the wall rose a tall mountain. Smoke was rising ominously from the mountain.

Rogue strode to the edge of the balcony and looked down. Below was a sea of young, bronzed men in loincloths. Upon seeing Rogue, the men fell in a wave to prostrate themselves before her.

"Now what's this all about?" Rogue asked. In the center of the courtyard rose a long, tall, wooden...thing. "What in tarnation is _that_?"

"I believe in certain religious cults they might have called it a _herm_," the Captain said.

"Really?" Rogue said. "Because t'me it looks like an enormous d-o_h_!"

There came from the earth a deep rumble and then the ground began to shake. Rogue clung to the railing of the balcony as the ground shook. From below came a collective moan of fear from her worshippers. From above the volcano chugged out a plume of smoke.

When the earthquake ceased, the Captain spoke: "Your Royal Hotness, the goddess wishes for you to fulfill your royal duties."

Rogue straightened, eyeing the volcano warily. "All right, Ah'll bite. What do mah royal duties entail?"

"My queen is the living embodiment of the temperamental goddess ROMY, whose stupendous lust has gone too long unfulfilled," the Captain explained. "You must perform your royal duties and satisfy the goddess to save us all from imminent destruction...via volcanic eruption."

"That is the stupidest thing Ah've ever heard," Rogue informed him.

"The viewers at home demand it," the Captain said commandingly and then turned to a hovering camera. "Text in your votes now! Your service provider's rates and charges apply!"

"When Ah get outta here, someone is gonna get clobbered," Rogue threatened. "Startin' with Spiral. Ah'm gonna rip all six of her arms off and beat her with 'em."

"Your Royal Hotness," the Captain turned to her again now. "The HARPIES have brought you their daily offering."

"Well, this should be interestin'," Rogue said dryly. "Let's see it then."

Several comely men hauled on ropes and the massive courtyard gates opened slowly. Rogue was led down the right staircase to the courtyard. She stood in the shadow of the giant herm. She looked up at it with an expression that was part curiosity and half grimace. Rogue turned her attention away from it when several figures strode through the front gates.

There were three amazonian women wearing bird masks and what appeared to be fur bikinis. They held between them three young men bound in ropes. The women led the men towards Rogue. The leader of the bird-women gave a curt bow in Rogue's direction.

"More offerings for your magnificence," the woman said, though Rogue could tell her heart wasn't in it. Rogue could see the woman's bright blue eyes through the eyeholes in her mask. Her hair was long and golden blond. Her bee-stung lips pouted attractively in the Captain's direction.

"Thanks, Ah guess," Rogue told her and looked at the three men. They were all quite handsome specimens.

"Does Your Royal Hotness find any to be to her liking?" the Captain asked.

"They look fine t'me. Put 'em with the others."

The Captain looked disappointed again. "There are none you wish brought to your chamber, my grace?"

"No, not especially," Rogue told him.

"Perhaps my queen needs some assistance in these matters," the Captain said. He opened up a pouch on his belt and produced a small box. He held it up beside his face. "Five times daily AROUZAL®," he said in a authoritative tone. "From Pfizer. In semi-scientific tests, AROUZAL® has been proven to be effective in stimulating a woman's-."

Rogue slapped the box from his hand.

The Captain turned to the Harpies' leader. "Her Royal Hotness finds your offerings to be lacking in desirability," he told her.

"Now, Ah didn't say that...," Rogue began.

"We'll just have to sacrifice their members to the volcano like the rest of them," the Captain continued. "And add them to the eunuch slaves."

The young men in the courtyard stood around nervously.

"What?" Rogue snapped. "No! Don't ya go doin' anything like that!"

The Captain looked at her hopefully. "Has her Royal Hotness changed her mind?"

"Ah-uhm. Send them up t'mah chambers," she commanded. "Ah'll keep 'em around. For later."

The three captives looked relieved. The Captain clapped his hands and two sword-bearing soldiers approached to lead the captives away. The Harpies' leader turned to Rogue and held out her hand. She opened and closed it in a 'gimme' gesture.

Rogue looked at the Captain. He removed another pouch from his belt and put it in the woman's hand. Several coins clinked within the bag. "Another offering will be expected tomorrow," he said.

"Yeah yeah," the Harpies' leader said in a tired tone. "Any special requests? Blondes? Maybe swarthy? You like 'em kinda built or more lean-like?"

"Ah-no! Ah don't want any more offerings! Three is enough!" Rogue exclaimed.

The volcano rumbled and sent them all staggering.

"Tomorrow," the Captain said.

The woman nodded her masked head and turned to leave. The two other women followed after her.

"My queen, your harem awaits!" the Captain said. "You and you alone can spare us from Romy's fiery wrath!" The Captain turned again to the cameras. "Will she succeed in sating the goddess' abominable lust? Find out after these messages from our sponsors!"

FADE TO BLACK

ACT THREE

Scene G

FADE IN:

INT. SPIRAL'S BATH & BODY WORKS SHOPPE, THE WILDWAYS – DAY

Gambit's head hurt. The smell of the "Midsummer's Eve" scented candle burning nearby didn't help matters either. In fact, he was feeling a little nauseated, but that might have been due to the concussion.

Spiral tsked. "You nearly killed yourself before the first commercial break," she said. "Do you _want_ to get cancelled?"

"What does getting cancelled mean?" Gambit asked, his eyes were narrowed to a squint since his head hurt so bad. "Does it mean I can go home?

"No, it means being dead," Spiral informed him.

"Then, no. I don't want to be cancelled," he said.

"Seriously, a _coconut_?" she asked him. "Am I going to have to babysit you through the whole series?"

"Look, I really don't appreciate being thrust inta this situation," Gambit said. Once again, he found himself strapped to a table in Spiral's Shoppe. There was blood on his face from his head wound. Spiral wiped at it with a cloth. "Though I am glad you decided t'leave me **intact**. What I don't care for is de ink you put on my arm."

Spiral looked at the tat. "You don't like it? I think it adds to your bad boy appeal."

"De only people wit' tribal tattoos are 'roided out douchebags wit' fake tans and backwards hats," Gambit informed her.

"So you're saying you want it gone?" Spiral asked and reached for the leather band Gambit had tied over the tattoo.

"Look," he snapped, "just-leave it alone!"

"You're awful grumpy," Spiral said. "Here I thought you were a pretty easy-going guy."

Gambit took a breath and let it out slowly. "I've suffered a severe head trauma."

"Oh right," Spiral said and dabbed the top of his head. "You have to admit though, your hair looked divine before you got all this blood in it."

Gambit's world was spinning in a slow circle. Spiral's face kept reappearing in it over and over again.

"I heard you were single," Spiral said inexplicably.

Gambit said: "That reminds me, I need to check my Facebook security settings when I get back."

"Does that mean you're on the prowl?" Spiral asked.

"I've been known to do some prowling," Gambit replied. "But probably not in de way you're inferring."

"I just wondered if you might have a type," Spiral said.

"Type?"

"Like a type of woman you were attracted to," Spiral confirmed.

"Female is my type," Gambit told her.

Spiral brightened. "If that's the case, I wondered if you might be interested in taking me out to dinner sometime? I mean, if you can make it through this series, and all."

Gambit blinked at her. Though discombobulated, he realized the err of giving Spiral a negative response. "Dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?" He couldn't help but sound dubious.

Spiral nonchalantly shrugged all sets of shoulders. "Maybe you don't like women with six arms...?" she said cooly.

"That...is not a detriment really," Gambit told her. "I have a fairly vivid imagination. I could figure out what t'do with de four extra hands easily."

"Maybe you feel threatened by an immensely powerful woman?" Spiral suggested.

"Ah, no. One of my exes can bench press a tank," Gambit said.

"Maybe you're intimidated by a woman with genius-level intellect?" Spiral guessed.

"I admire an intelligent woman," Gambit said. "And brain-power is not necessarily my strong suit, so comparatively, all women are geniuses."

"Then why don't you want to take me out?" Spiral asked.

"The fact that you maliciously intended to injure friends of mine, not to mention the general human population of Earth, might have something t'do wit' it," Gambit told her.

Spiral pointed at her head with two of her hands. "I have issues," she said. "A troubled past."

"That I can sympathize wit'," Gambit told her. "Though if you're willing t'turn over a new leaf and start anew, I would be willin' to overlook your past misdeeds."

Spiral looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Do you really mean that?"

Gambit shrugged to the best of his ability. "I have no place t'pass judgement on others."

"So, it's a date then?" Spiral asked happily.

"Sure, _chere_. Why not?" Gambit replied. "What you like t'do? Me, I've become a bit of a homebody. Don't get out much."

"Do you like to dance?" Spiral asked.

"_Ma belle_, I am a Cajun man. We's born dancin'," he told her. "Singin', playin', and general carousin' is my forte. If you don't mind de Catholic guilt trip every Sunday wit' a generous dose of superstitious nonsense."

"Sounds fun," Spiral said.

"Does this mean you'll let me go?" he asked.

"I'll let you go finish the show," she said. "I'm sorry, I have no choice."

"Seems like you're pretty on top of things, _chere_," Gambit pandered. "Runnin' de show, so t'speak. Where's Mojo?"

"San Diego," Spiral replied. "ComicCon."

Gambit shook his head. "I...don't even want t'know what dat means."

"He's relying on ratings to give him the power to transport back," Spiral told Gambit.

"Yeah?" Gambit quipped. "How's dat workin' out for him?"

Spiral looked at the ratings. "I have to say, the hits are low and the reviews are few and far between," she said. "But do you really want to leave Mojo in San Diego?"

"Let de stuck-up jerks on Utopia handle him," Gambit said.

"You'll be passing up your chance to rescue _Ro-ogue_..." Spiral said tauntingly.

Gambit sighed. "She's down there, is she?" he asked. "In dat _Paradise Lust_ mess?"

Spiral nodded affirmatively. "Do you still love her?" she asked.

"I've yet t'fall out of love wit' any woman," Gambit replied.

"Aww," Spiral said and looked down at her cart. "I should probably fix up your head."

"What's that?" Gambit asked. "That ain't a staple gun is it?"

"Hm..." Spiral answered and picked up the implement. "Just hold still. This will hurt. A lot."

She fired three staples into Gambit's head. "Ow! Ow! OW!"

"There you go!" Spiral said. "Okay...! Time for the next scene! Off you go then!"

FADE OUT


	9. Commanding Performance

Commanding Performance

ACT THREE

Scene H

FADE IN:

INT. THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL RECREATION ROOM, SALEM CENTER – NIGHT

Wolverine heard a peculiar and ominous sound. It was the sound of two dozen teenagers being silent. Which could only mean one thing: that they were collectively doing something they shouldn't be doing. Wolverine was stalking the halls, a half-finished bottle of beer in one hand, a slice of cold pizza in the other. He first became aware of lack of teenage loquacity when he heard the sound of the television playing at a low level in the recreation room. Fearing the worst, Wolverine approached the rec room door and peered in.

Within the darkened room he spied the entire student body gathered around the bluish glow of the television set. No one was arguing about what station to watch. No one was jockeying for the best seat. They were staring at the screen with a silent, captivated gaze. It was an eerie sight. Wolverine stuffed another bite of pizza into his mouth and watched.

There was a commercial on the television screen. "_Is your much younger and disproportionately more attractive wife no longer interested in making the sexy time with you?_" asked the commercial voice-over. "_Have your attempts to bribe her with jewelry and shoes met with no satisfaction? Then five-times daily AROUZAL__might be right for you..."_

Wolverine's brows knit together as he slowly chewed his mouthful of processed cheese. He followed it with a sip of beer.

"_Why bother communicating with your partner to understand your differences when you can just secretly supplement her diet with AROUZAL__? In semi-scientific tests, AROUZAL__ has been proven to stimulate your otherwise unwilling partner's desire to boink your brains out._" On the screen, a much older man was dropping tablets into his spouse's coffee. She was reading a novel when he presented her with the coffee cup. The woman seemed momentarily confused that her husband was serving her coffee, but accepted the mug with a vaguely suspicious look on her face.

"_Don't wait for that intimate moment for the two of you to connect on a deeply emotional level, make NOW the time for AROUZAL__!_"

The woman was shown jumping upon her momentarily thrilled husband. She began a vigorous assault upon him and his expression quickly changed to fear. They disappeared behind the kitchen counter. "_When taking AROUZAL__, certain side-effects may occur..._" The woman re-emerged, her hair in disarray, a wild look in her eye. "_Side effects include...night sweats...day sweats...hot flashes...spontaneous combustion...diarrhea of the mouth...vaginal growling..._"

The woman was now shown running after a terrified pool boy. She caught up with him as he tried to vault a wooden privacy fence. "_Should your partner experience any of these effects, __**increase**__ the dosage...but by no means discontinue administering the drug._" There was a camera shot of the front door. Mail was being pushed through a slot. The woman yanked open the door to reveal the stunned mail carrier. He too was leapt upon and ravished in the bushes. "_Five-times daily AROUZAL__. Ask your dealer-er, __**doctor**__ if it's right for you!_"

Wolverine sucked the grease off the ends of his fingers and drained his beer. Certainly that was an unusual commercial, but no stranger than any of the other drug commercials he'd seen. There were no spontaneously appearing twin bathtubs, for example.

The commercial break ended and the program resumed. Wolverine was stunned into immovability when he saw his teammate Rogue appear on the screen. She was wearing a short green silk robe and nothing else. The male student body leaned forward as one (with the exception of Anole). The camera zoomed back, revealing Rogue to be seated upon a throne, her elbow on her knee, her chin propped in her hand, and an unhappy look on her face. Two loin-cloth clad men were fanning her with palm fronds. A third man was painting Rogue's toenails. There was a repetitive squeaking noise from off camera that revealed itself to be a cart which was wheeled into view. A broad-shouldered man with bright blond hair was pushing the cart towards Rogue. On the cart was a red and white striped bucket with the big bold letters **KFC** on the side.

Rogue looked up at the blond man. "What now?" she asked warily.

"I have brought you sustenance, my queen," the man replied.

Rogue reached into the bucket and removed what had to be the largest drumstick seen on television since the days of _The Flintstones_. "What is this?" Rogue asked, somewhat disturbed.

"KFC," the man replied. "One of our sponsors."

Rogue stared at the fried leg. "Dare Ah ask what the 'C' stands for?"

The man hesitated and Rogue looked up at him expectantly. "'Chocobo'...," the man finally answered.

Rogue dropped the leg back into the bucket and wiped her hands on a nearby paper napkin.

"If you won't eat," the man began, "please at least drink some Coke."

Rogue looked at the man suspiciously. "Do you mean: _Coca-Cola_..?"

The man set a familiar-shaped glass bottle down in front of Rogue. She looked somewhat relieved. She picked it up, put the mouth of the bottle to her lips, and tilted it back. The viewers could clearly see the remains of several dissolving tablets at the bottom of the Coke bottle.

"This tastes funny," Rogue said.

"It's New Coke," the man explained. "Murderworld preferred it's taste to _Pepsi_ in a blind taste test."

"You people are sick," Rogue said and drank the remainder of the bottle. The man watched smugly as she drained it.

"Take that away," Rogue told him and pointed at the bucket of KFC. "There ain't no way I'm eatin' that."

"As you wish, Your Royal Hotness."

Rogue looked down at her toenails for a moment, then sat back in her throne. Wolverine could tell by the way her mouth quirked up at the corner that she was thinking, or rather, having an inner debate with herself. Rogue's cheeks slowly grew pink. She snatched a palm frond from one of her male slaves and began fanning herself with it.

"Is it hot in here?" she asked the blond man.

"We _are_ on a tropical island," the man replied.

"This is more than just hot, this is **Atlanta** hot," Rogue said.

"Perhaps a bath?" the man suggested.

Rogue hopped to her feet, her hands grasping at the front of her robe. "Yes...! A bath! Sounds good!" She was visibly panting now. Her bosoms were _literally_ heaving.

"I cannot _wait_ for my next training class...," said Santo, his beady eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"Turn this crap off right now!" Wolverine shouted from the back of the room. Students either looked at one another with an expression of surprise and guilt or began to scatter in a panic. Popcorn and potato chips went flying.

On the television screen, Rogue's manservants were drawing her a bath. Rogue dabbed at her brow with the hem of her robe. The camera zoomed in on her face.

"_Grrwlll_...," came from somewhere off camera. Rogue's face flushed and her eyes darted left and right. "Excuse me," she said.

Wolverine seized the remote from Quentin Quire and students began to quickly flee the scene.

"Curfew! Bed! Lights out!" Wolverine was yelling. He mashed down several buttons on the remote, hoping to turn off the television. Instead three green "thumbs ups" appeared just as Rogue was shucking her robe.

"Mommy," Quentin said.

CUT TO:

INT. THE GODDESS' TEMPLE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – NIGHT

Rogue was extremely uncomfortable from the waist down. She gratefully descended into the tepid bathwater and splashed her face. As she wiped the water from her eyes, she looked up and saw that her three male captives had joined her in the bath. They were looking at her from across the large bathtub with expectant looks on their faces. She scowled at them.

"Keep your hands above the waterline!" she commanded. The trio hastily raised their hands.

Rogue turned her back to them, folded her arms on the ledge of the bathtub, and propped her chin on her forearms. _Of all the stupid_...she thought angrily to herself. Behind her, one of the men was dumping some kind of bath oil into the water. The scent of "Arabian Sunrise" filled the air.

"My queen," said one of the men timidly. "Would you like a back massage?

"Give yourselves back massages!" Rogue snapped without turning around.

The three men complied. Rogue glanced over her shoulder and was momentarily transfixed by the sight of three oiled up men rubbing one another. She shook her head as if to dispel the image from her mind. Her eyes turned to the bottle of bath oil on the ledge. Rogue picked it up and regarded the label. It was from Spiral's Bath and Body Works Shoppe. Rogue had the vague recollection of what had transpired while she was trapped within the Shoppe. She recalled a fairly painful ordeal involving her inner organs, followed by a distant memory of being stripped of her body hair. Then there was the recollection of being gassed in a chamber of golden bronzer. Through it all, she had detected the faint sounds of someone screaming...in a cajun accent. Rogue jerked upright with a gasp. _Could it be?_ she wondered. _Was Gambit here too?_

Rogue slowly rose from the water; beads of oiled moisture spilled down heated flesh. The men got an eyeful and were distracted into immobility. Rogue picked up her robe and stepped from the bath.

"Ah'm just gonna go...get some air," she said and pulled on the robe. The men stared at her, mouths agape. She began to slowly creep towards the open door. Thankfully, the Captain was no where in sight. When Rogue was within a few feet of the door, she made a break for it.

Rogue slipped across the balcony on oiled feet. She slid into the banister and nearly pitched over the edge to tumble down the side of the pyramid. She hauled herself backwards with a firm grip on the banister. Rogue looked down the staircase, her feet sliding out from under her. She managed to get her feet under her body, righted herself, then propped a hip on the banister and began to slide down it. She hit the courtyard and slid several feet.

From the temple above came several shouts of warning. Beyond the courtyard walls came the rumbling of the volcano. Rogue lurched to her feet and began to run and slide towards the open doors of the courtyard gates.

"Close the gates!" came the authoritative call from the Captain. "Don't let her escape!"

Rogue tried to double her speed. Scantily clad men were now diving at her in an effort to subdue her. The earth's shaking sent several men tumbling. Rogue skidded across the courtyard stones...luckily she had some muscle memory left from absorbing Iceman. She evaded several of her pursuers. The gate was growing closer though by now several men were hauling on the ropes and the doors were slowly closing. Overhead came a blast from the angry volcano and Rogue stumbled.

A man grabbed her around the waist and bore her to the ground. She slipped and squirmed out from under him. Rogue skidded across the pavement several feet and struggled to regain her footing. She was taken down by another pair of men. She squeezed from their grips like a bar of _Zest_. Rogue was close now; close to the closing gates and freedom.

It was no use, she was overpowered and surrounded. She struggled in their collective grips, and parts of her body were seized that she would probably not wish to be seized. Rogue gave up and allowed the men to bear her back to the temple over their heads like a bunch of rowdy hockey players with the Stanley Cup.

Rogue was set back on her feet on the balcony. Below awaited the expectant faces of her worshippers. Beside her was the disapproving Captain, his arms crossed, his mouth a grim line. Rogue gripped the banister and looked down into the courtyard, at the people, the herm, and the closed gates.

She breathed heavily, her bedraggled hair falling into her sweaty face. She was hurt, humiliated, and angry. Also, extremely horny. This had to be the most ridiculous situation she had ever been involved in. There was only one person she knew of who had been in more ridiculous situations and had managed to somehow weasel his way out of them with nary a scratch.

"Ah have an announcement t'make!" Rogue declared and raised her arms. Around her, the people fell silent. Rogue looked around with a commanding gaze. "There is only one man, and one man alone who can satisfy my boundless desire and spare you all from Romy's horrible wrath!"

"Now you listen up, ya bunch of ninnies! Ah _demand_ you bring me the man Ah desire...Remy LeBeau, otherwise known as **Gambit**!"

FADE TO BLACK

ACT THREE

Scene I

FADE IN:

INT. THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL CONFERENCE ROOM, SALEM CENTER – NIGHT

"Next time, on _Paradise Lust_-," said the voice over. The TiVo then went "pi-plip!" and the message: "_Program has ended. Would you like to delete this program_?" appeared on the screen.

"Dangit!" Bobby said. "I hate when TiVo cuts off the end of the show!"

"Set the next show to record," Kitty told him. "Maybe we can catch the end of _Paradise Lust_ at the beginning of the next program."

Logan entered the conference room where the rest of the X-Men had gathered. "What've we got?" he asked. Bobby was fiddling with the remote, so Warbird answered.

"Both Rogue and Gambit are being held prisoner on a tropical island," she responded. "The most imminent threats appear to be an active volcano, an unseen attacker, possibly avian in nature, and coconuts."

Distractedly Bobby added: "Rogue's being held captive in a temple surrounded by about fifty half-naked dudes. Some of them have swords."

"There is also a group of tribeswomen called The Harpies," Warbird said. "We have not yet learned anything about them other than that they appear to be bounty hunters."

"Rogue got drugged and Gambit got concussed," Bobby concluded.

Wolverine turned to Kitty and Hank. "How's the project coming along?"

"Good news," Kitty said. "I pinpointed the coordinates from the transport coin. Bad news, it's not in Murderworld, but in the Wildways. Which probably means it goes straight to Spiral's Body Shoppe."

"Not good," Rachel said. "Very bad."

"And how are _we_ going to get to Spiral's Body Shoppe?" Logan asked.

"I'm developing a transport device," Hank said and held up what appeared to be a harness. Parts of the harness were held together with duct tape. "This is the prototype." A bit of the prototype fell off and clattered onto the table.

"Does it work?" Logan asked dubiously.

"We'll need to test it," Hank said.

"Not it," Bobby automatically responded.

Kitty said impatiently: "That's _not _how we decide things around here."

"Right, we go by seniority," Logan said. "This is a school."

"Last hired, first fired-out of a cannon," Bobby said.

"Okay folks, who was brought in last?" Kitty asked brightly.

Several heads turned in Warbird's direction. She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Something tells me testing a prototypical transdimensional transport device on a foreign diplomat is probably a bad idea," observed Jono.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Logan asked.

The room was silent.

"Cecelia asked for something to do," Logan continued. "Let's send her. She's got a shield, she'll be all right."

The tail end of _Paradise Lust _appeared on the television screen. "Ha ha!" Bobby exclaimed. "Success!"

"-_Oceans of Passion!_" continued the voice over.

Rogue appeared on the screen standing at a balcony overlooking her worshippers. "Ah _demand_ you bring me the man Ah desire...Remy LeBeau, otherwise known as **Gambit**!" she declared.

The screen cut to an image of Gambit, who was sitting in a large cauldron of hot water. "I like t'eat all kinds a pie," he announced proudly.

Wolverine shook his head. "This is the stupidest-."

"I have to object to using Cecelia as a guinea pig," Hank said. "If it comes down to it, _I'll_ do the testing. And besides, we do not know where Cecelia has gone to."

"Uh, Hank-," Bobby said and pointed at the television screen.

On the screen was an image of Cecelia Reyes, packed into a skin-tight leather ensemble. She was standing on an outcropping overlooking a field of grass. Several insanely large chickens appeared to be pecking around in the tall grass below.

"Oh my stars..." Hank began.

"Okay Cecelia," Cecelia told herself as she looked down at the chickens. "This is a completely ludicrous situation. Time to stop thinking logically. Ask yourself: _What would Gambit do_?"

The entire group of assembled X-Men stared at the television screen. They collectively turned to one another in amazement.

"What the-," Logan began.

"How did she-," Bobby asked.

"...and garters...," Hank concluded.

Frenzy stepped into the conference room. "I'm the volunteer," she said. "I'll go."

FADE OUT


	10. Coming Attractions

ACT FOUR

Scene A

FADE IN:

EXT. TROPICAL FOREST, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

Gambit was up in a tree. He was sure to check that it wasn't a coconut tree before he'd climbed it. This one was a banana tree...so he believed. But when he got to the top, he found that the bananas were in fact _blue_ and not yellow as he expected bananas to be. More alarming was the fact that the banana he picked all ready had a sticker on it. The sticker was orange and it said: "FROOT!® Now with more banana flavor!" FROOT!® is a registered trademark of Monsanto.

Gambit peeled the fauxnana. The banana-flavored contents inside were the color of an old bruise. Gambit hesitated, then took a bite out of the FROOT!. It tasted like those weird foam-like orange peanut-shaped candies you could buy in cellophane bags at Cracker Barrel. He gagged a little. Gambit was pretty hungry, but he'd been hungrier. He looked at the FROOT!® again. He wasn't **that** hungry...not yet. Still, having nearly starved to death on several occasions, Gambit hated not knowing where his next meal was coming from. He'd had a Scarlett O'Hara moment shortly after the whole Antarctica experience where he swore with God as his witness, he'd never go hungry again. Eating a genetically modified FROOT!® from a soulless evil corporation was preferable to starvation, he supposed.

Just then, Gambit smelled something in the air. It was the delightful odor of warm carbohydrates and sugar; the two main food groups of anyone living below the Mason-Dixon line (the third and fourth being Butter and Fried). Gambit had Wolverine-like senses when it came to baked goods. What those senses were telling him now was that there was a fruit-based dessert nearby-pie-like in nature-and the crust was made with-yes...it was: _Crisco_®. Gambit slid down the tree posthaste.

Below the tree was a sort of path that was little more than a byway for the resident wildlife. After having met one of the island denizens in his descent from the cliff, he was not interested in encountering any more of said wildlife. Gambit cautiously followed the path for awhile, the FROOT!® clutched in his hand. He came upon a cherry pie. Gambit stared at the pie. It was sitting in the middle of the pathway not doing anything but looking delicious. Gambit looked around but saw no signs of life nearby. The pie looked very tempting and Gambit was pretty sure this was some kind of trap.

There was a stick in the undergrowth nearby so Gambit picked it up. Carefully keeping his distance, he waved the stick around the pie. Nothing happened. Gambit nudged the pie with the stick and suddenly he found the stick whipped from his grasp. A snare yanked the stick from his hand and up into the air where it dangled several yards overhead.

"Ha!" Gambit said and pointed at the pie. "Thought you could trick me, _enh_?"

Gambit tossed the FROOT!® over his shoulder and walked over to the pie. He crouched and picked it up. The pie was still warm. He could almost anticipate the sugar rush he was about to receive. Gambit heard the squawk of some birds and looked upwards. The stick in the tree began to shudder as did the trees themselves. Gambit felt the ground beneath his feet jerk in one direction, then the other. The volcano was complaining again. Gambit stumbled backwards and he felt his foot land in the slippery contents of the FROOT!®. His leg shot out from under him and he fell backwards. The pie flew skyward. In an act of karmic retribution (see X-Men #8), the pie overturned itself and plummeted downwards. Gambit hit the ground on his back, his breath going out of him in a grunt. He had a moment to realize that the pie was out to get him. It smashed into his face and he collapsed back onto the path, limbs akimbo.

From beneath the pie plate, Gambit made a soft quiet sound that might have been a sob. The pie plate was overturned, revealing Gambit's unhappy face covered in _Crisco_® piecrust and cherry filling. He wiped his eyes and then opened them. Three women in bird masks were standing over him. They had ropes. They had spears. They were wearing fur bikinis.

"We bagged a good one," said one of the women. "Let's get him back to camp. I have a feeling he'll clean up pretty good."

FADE OUT

ACT FOUR

Scene B

FADE IN:

EXT. GRASSY FIELD, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

Cecelia was trying not to think about how ridiculous she must look. She was trying not to think _at all_, actually. That was how she had ended up on the back of a giant chicken. To back up a bit, Cecelia had found herself transported via Spiral's worktable to the Paradise Island Set C on Murderworld. She had stood upon an outcropping overlooking a field of swaying grass. In the field below, several fuzzy yellow chickens that outsized her rented Prius had been pecking about. Cecelia had a coil of rope looped over one shoulder. In her other arm, she carried a spear. She was clad in a corset/vest sort of thing that laced up the front and a pair of hot pants that laced up the sides. She was still wearing her white tennis shoes though. It sort of spoiled the overall effect.

After wrangling one of the giant chickens with her coil of rope, she subdued it with several punches head until it submitted to being climbed upon. The bird was actually pretty cute. It looked like a cross between a baby chick and a cereal mascot. Its beak curved up in such a way that it appeared to be permanently smiling. It also had sweet little black button eyes. The bird's legs were enormous and ended in oversized feet. When it chirped it went: _Wark Wark_! Overall, it was adorable... until it tried to bite Cecelia's arm off.

Now the bird had a rope tied around its cute smiling beak in a sort of makeshift bridle. Cecelia sat on its back and wished she hadn't chosen to go commando. The bird's stride was swift and it moved at a ground-eating pace. When Cecelia had last seen Gambit on the monitors, he'd been in a stream. Cece thought she recognized the cliff he'd climbed in the distance. She steered the bird towards it. Cecelia bounced along on the bird's back, hoping the skimpy lacings on her corset would hold together. Her breasts were jiggling precariously with every stride. Her braided hair slapped her back. Spiral had affixed several beads, shells, and teeth into it before pinning most of it up on top of Cece's head. Her nails were painted bright orange, as was the swath of warpaint Spiral had smeared over one of Cecelia's eyes. Several cameras were trailing after her as the bird ran on.

Once in the shadow of the mountain, Cecelia found herself at a lake. She lead the bird around the circumference of the lake. She looked down in the mud for some sign of where Gambit had gone. She and the bird came upon a stream which fed the lake. Cece nudged the bird forward with her heels and the bird splashed into the stream. They moved up the stream against the current. She stopped the bird for a moment to take her glasses off her face and wipe the droplets of water from the lenses. Spiral had suggested Cece get some new eyes ("_Purr_-ple!" Spiral had said and dangled a pair of violet colored eyeballs in what she believed to be a tantalizing manner). Cece had an astigmatism and she'd been considering Lasik. But a few days ago Remy had revealed he had a fantasy involving a librarian. Cece was keeping her glasses (and practicing shushing).

Cecelia set her glasses back on the bridge of her nose and took up the reins again. The bird's head bobbed up and down making the little feather forelock on his head bounce. "_Wark wark_!" he said.

"_Aw_," Cece couldn't help from saying aloud. The bird turned it's head and gnawed at her tennis shoe until she kicked its beak.

Further upstream Cecelia came upon a coconut grove. Several coconuts were laying on the ground. Cecelia led the chicken from the stream and up onto the bank. There were footprints along the stream bed. Nearby was a indentation in the undergrowth which led to a small footpath. Cecelia urged the bird into the forest. The forest was strangely hushed save for the gentle stirring of the breeze in the leaves. So the sound of a man singing: "_I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts..._" carried quite a distance.

Cecelia found the man hanging upside down from a tree by one ankle. He was swaying gently and slowly turning in the air. Both of his hands were busy holding his loincloth in place. Below him on the ground was a pie.

As the man slowly revolved in the air to face her he stopped singing. "Oh, hi!" he said brightly.

Cecelia stared at him. The man was quite handsome. He had longish blond hair and a boyishly handsome face. "Uhm, hello," Cecelia responded. The man tried to keep her in sight by turning his head as he continued his slow spin.

"Are you one of the Harpies?" he asked, now facing the opposite direction.

"No, I am not," Cecelia answered. She was now looking at the backside of him. He hadn't thought to hold down the back of his loincloth. His dimples were adorable. "Aw," she said compulsively.

"That's too bad," the man said as he slowly came to face her again. "I was hoping they'd show up once I sprung this trap."

Cecelia looked up into his sparkling blue eyes. "Wait...you _wanted_ to get caught?" she asked.

The man revolved like a rotisserie. "I thought it would be the easiest way to get to the Goddess' Temple," he said.

"That big gold temple on the hill? I'm going there too," Cecelia said.

"You **are**?" the man asked excitedly. "I hadn't thought to catch one of the birds. You're pretty smart! Do you think you could give me a ride?"

Cecelia allowed him to complete another revolution before answering. "Sure. Let me cut you down."

She nudged the bird so he came nearer to where the man hung. With her spear, she began stabbing upward at the rope where it met the tree branch. "Try not to land on your head," she told the man.

"Oh, I won't!" he assured her.

The rope began to fray and Cecelia quickly pulled back on the reins, drawing the bird backwards. When the rope snapped, the man miraculously drew his legs forward like an Olympic diver and landed on his feet.

"Ta da!" he said with his arms raised. He then performed a bow.

Cecelia was impressed. The man was pretty bendy with quick reflexes and a lithe form, much like Gambit. He was also pretty darn cute, also like Gambit. They both seemed to have perpetual grins on their faces. The difference was that _this_ man's smile was all playful innocence and his eyes were light and earnest. Gambit's smile could border on lecherous at the best of times to downright threatening at the worst of times, and his eyes were dark, knowing, and made Cece's libido do the Hokey Pokey. Cece wasn't getting the whole "I'm Sexy And I Know It" vibe from this guy. The blond man was currently hopping around on one foot while trying to untie the snare from his ankle.

"Do you want that pie?" she asked him and pointed. It was still sitting on the ground.

"Nah," he told her and detangled the rope. He let his leg drop. "It's drugged."

"Drugged? Drugged with what?" Cece asked, warily eyeing the pie.

The man grimaced. "Ah...," he began. "Have you seen those commercials with the two bathtubs?"

Cecelia's brow furrowed. "Nevermind. The less I know about this place, the better."

"So about that ride...?"

"Right. I think I'd be more comfortable if you were sitting up front," she said and slipped off the bird's back.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "It's your bird."

"Uhm...yes. I'm sure. I hate driving," she said. She didn't add that she was not wearing underpants and his loincloth was extremely short and that sitting in front of him would certainly be...awkward. She handed over the reins. The bird was looking excited, bobbing its whole body up and down. It started _wark_-ing merrily.

"What's it doing?" Cece asked.

"Dancing, looks like," the man answered.

The bird crouched down and raised its head to the sky, its smiling mouth wide open. Just then, a gust of wind shook the trees. Cece and the man looked skyward. A dark shadow was falling over the canopy of leaves. The wind picked up. From above came a sound.

"_WAURRK_! _WAURRK_!"

"What is _**that**_!" Cecelia screamed.

There was a crashing of tree limbs and leaves rained down from above. Cece ducked as debris clattered down on her shields. She looked up to see two giant clawed feet descending upon her. Then the giant underbelly of an enormous creature crashed through the tree canopy. Cece shrieked as a long neck curved down. Two black eyes stared at her for a moment, and then a beak that was definitely **NOT** smiling opened wide and swallowed Cecelia's world whole.

FADE TO BLACK

ACT FOUR

Scene C*

FADE IN:

INT. SPIRAL'S BATH & BODY WORKS SHOPPE, THE WILDWAYS – NIGHT

Frenzy was strapped into the transport harness, the straps of which met over the center of her chest. Where the straps crossed, there was a chest plate. On the chest plate was a big red button. One moment Frenzy was standing in the X-Men's conference room, the next she was depressing the button and standing in a storage closet. Her sudden appearance in the closet was startling and she stumbled backwards into a shelf. Several items on the shelf rattled and she moved to steady the bottles, candles, and random body parts before they fell to the floor. Frenzy breathed in and out slowly and listened. Hearing nothing imminently dangerous, she looked about the dim interior to get her bearings. There was a curtained door behind her that let in a little of the light from the room beyond. Frenzy turned slowly to face it. On the shelves near the door were several heads. They each had an elaborate hairstyle and obscene amounts of makeup. All the heads' eyes were closed save one.

The head had a strange, lopsided hairstyle dyed in myriad colors. It regarded Frenzy for a long moment focusing its attention on Frenzy's hair.

"So, she got to you, too..." the head commiserated.

"Shut up!" Frenzy hissed.

Frenzy crept to the curtained doorway and peered out. She saw the interior of Spiral's Bath and Body Works Shoppe. It was every bit as horrifying as Marvel Girl had described, only now there was the addition of fragrances, candles, and hand sanitizers. Apparently, Spiral was diversifying her business. Frenzy spied Spiral on the far side of the room sitting in a chair. Spiral's feet were in a footbath and each of her hands was resting with the digits splayed as her nails had just recently been lacquered. Spiral's hair was wrapped in a towel, and she had greenish-blue cream smeared all over her face. Two cucumber slices covered Spiral's eyes. She appeared to be sleeping.

Behind Spiral was a wall full of monitors. Frenzy stepped into the shop. Stealthiness was not Frenzy's strong suit, so even though she tried to walk silently her combat boots fell solidly on the tile floor. The ambient music playing of a new-agey recording underscored by the sounds of trickling water covered up some of Frenzy's gracelessness. Unfortunately, the water sounds made Frenzy realize she had to pee. She was now hiding behind one of the tables that had been raised to a ninety degree angle. The table was stainless steel with straps to hold down Spiral's victims. It was somewhat curved like a cradle. Frenzy supposed this was to help whatever spilled body fluids flow down to the drain at the bottom of the table. At the base of the table were two plates, apparently intended for feet to stand upon. The table was set on a track in the floor and had multiple cables and wires attached to the back of it. Frenzy's eyes followed the cables where they snaked across the floor to a control box set in the wall.

Frenzy went to the control box and opened the metal door. There were two red-handled levers inside. One was labeled "Table A," the other "Table B." A plastic placard over the handles read: "To activate transport, press lever DOWN." Both levers were in the up position. There was also a series of buttons with stickers on them that said: Set A, Set B, Set C, and so on. Frenzy closed the door.

Frenzy turned back to the room and crept to the bank of monitors. She was now standing behind the sleeping Spiral. Frenzy scanned the different monitors. She spotted the one showing _Paradise Lust_. Her eyes nearly crossed in confusion when she saw that Cecelia was riding on a giant chicken. Frenzy shook her head. Near the monitors was a cabinet. Frenzy opened the doors and peered inside. It was full of electronic equipment such as video playback devices, soundboards, and a mass of tangled cables and wires. There were also stacks and stacks of production tapes. They were in alphabetical order from _The A-Minus Team _(about a team of high school overachievers who rode around in a tricked out van fighting terrorism and bullies) to _Zima_®_: Warrior Malt Beverage_ (sponsored by Coors Brewing Company). Somewhere in the middle was a large DigiBeta tape with the sticker on it that said: _Paradise Lust: Episode 2 – preproduction dailies. _

Holding the top of the stack of tapes against the wall with one hand, Frenzy slowly wiggled the _Paradise Lust _tape from the stack. When she finally pulled it free, the tapes stacked above it clattered against one another, but luckily didn't fall. Frenzy let out a held breath and then slowly closed the doors. She began walking backwards away from Spiral and towards the closet. There came a chiming sound and Spiral abruptly sat up. A cucumber slice fell off her left eye to land in her cleavage. She peeled the other slice off her right eye. Frenzy dashed behind one of the upright tables.

Spiral sat up and stretched all six arms. She picked up a towel and dried her feet. She hummed to herself as she walked to a nearby dumbwaiter and slid open the door. For a moment she regarded the tray within. "Oh, that figures!" she groused. "They got my order wrong _again_!" Spiral leaned out into the endless abyss between multiple realities that lay beyond the dumbwaiter door.

"Hey!" she shouted into infinite nothingness. "Where's my _Oreo_® cheesecake!"

While Spiral's head was out in infinity, Frenzy made a dash for the curtained doorway. She pulled the curtain closed behind her and stepped into the closet. She depressed the red button on her chest. The plastic cover fell off to land on the floor with a clatter.

"Shitshitshitshit," Frenzy said and scrambled after the button.

One of the other heads had woken up and was looking down at her. Lipstick had been smeared well outside the boundary of the head's lips and a lot of glittery blue eyeshadow framed each insane eyeball.

"Baby look pretty now mommy?" the head asked in a crazy voice.

"Shh!" Frenzy hissed at it. "Shut up!"

"Take me with you!" cried the head with the multicolored hair.

"Call the police!" screamed a third head.

"This place is totally whacked," Frenzy said in a panic.

"Kill me now!" announced yet another head. "Death is mercy!"

The curtain was yanked back revealing a confused looking Spiral.

"Mommy make baby pretty!" cried the insane head.

Frenzy straightened and then stood stock still, save for her index finger which helplessly and repeatedly pressed the nub where the red button had been.

Spiral gave Frenzy a once-over. "Wow...and I thought the last one was bad. Honey, you're in desperate need of a total makeover. And what the hell are _those_?" she pointed a pink-painted fingernail at Frenzy's boots. She looked up and spotted the tape in Frenzy's hand.

"Hey...," Spiral began.

Frenzy felt a little zap of electrical current on the tip of her finger as the wires finally connected and the button-nub depressed. Spiral, the closet, and the half-dozen heads vanished and Frenzy found herself back in the conference room. Frenzy stood motionless in front of the other X-Men, her expression dazed.

"I told you it would work," Beast said to Shadowcat.

"Frenzy...," Marvel Girl began, her eyebrows raised in concern. "You okay?"

"I was nearly caught," Frenzy breathed. "There were bath salts...and...blue eyeshadow. French tips...mud masques. It was madness."

"What did you find out?" Wolverine asked.

Frenzy extended the tape she held to Iceman. He looked at the label and smiled. "Great! Now we don't have to wait 'til tomorrow to find out what happens! Who knows how to hook up the player? I'll go get more snacks, then...it's showtime!"

"But first," Frenzy said and danced a little from foot to foot while tugging at the harness. "Get me outta this thing! I really need to pee!"

FADE OUT

* * *

_*scene written while slightly intoxicated. Okay. Very intoxicated._

_Let's play the Paradise Lust Drinking Game! _

_Gambit says "Ow" = 1 drink_

_Gambit gets wet = 2 drinks_

_Gambit gets tied up = 3 drinks_

_Dear readers, I am soliciting your opinions and feedback for a project compiling all the best Gambit fiction to add to our Community: Gambit Guild – LeBeau Library here on . The LeBeau Library, formerly hosted at The Gambit Guild, has been relocated to . I know you are readers of discerning taste (you like my story after all, haha!), so please either PM me, our Gambit Guild administrator (penname: **LeBeau Library**), or submit your recommendations for Gambit fics via feedback. We accept all stories, and I do mean that. We don't discriminate against genres, ratings, writing style, or 'ships. You just have to love Gambit! Please follow, or volunteer to be a member of our staff! _

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_There's also a Gambit Guild – LeBeau Library: X-Men Evolution as well!_


	11. Viewer Discretion Advised

ACT FOUR

Scene D

FADE IN:

EXT. THE HARPIES' CAMP, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

Warm water sluiced down over Gambit's head, plastering his hair down over his face. He was sitting in a large metal pot of water, or a cauldron he supposed, like the main ingredient to some kind of witches' brew. The three women had manhandled him into the cauldron of water, but not before unceremoniously disrobing him and putting some kind of stinging solution on the tattoo on his arm. He kept the band of leather tied around his bicep because now the tattoo had disintegrated into a blueish blob. Gambit pushed his hair back from his face to look at the faces of the three women standing around the cauldron. They'd removed their bird masks. Their expressions were pleased, eager, and excited. There was a raven-haired woman with dark skin, a brunette with gray eyes, and a woman with strawberry-blond hair and freckles.

"I told you he'd clean up," the dark-haired woman said.

"He's soooo cute," said the brunette. "Can we keep him?"

"He's all ready mostly housebroke," said the redhead. "Once that stupid tattoo fades off, he'll be perfect!"

Gambit shrank back from the women to the opposite side of the cauldron.

"He looks scared," the brunette said.

"Aw, poor thing," said the redhead and reached out a hand. Gambit flinched back. "I think he's been abused," she said.

"I've not been abused!" Gambit told her.

"We'll have to rehabilitate him before he can be released to a new home," the raven-haired woman said, ignoring Gambit's words completely.

The redhead clapped happily. "Yay! We get to keep him!"

The women tried to crowd around him so he moved to the center of the cauldron. "Lissen ladies, please," he began. "You have my thanks for de bath but-."

"Did you hear that?" the redhead asked enthusiastically. "He says _please_ **and** _thanks_!"

"Someone's trained him a bit," the raven-haired girl said. "I wonder why he was abandoned?"

"There, there," the brunette said soothingly. "It's okay! You're safe now!"

Gambit shook his head, flabbergasted. The cauldron was located within the women's camp. There were several brightly colored fabric tents surrounding the centrally located bazaar. The camp residents were almost entirely composed of young beautiful women. There was a cage constructed of bamboo poles nearby in which several young men were kept. These men were tanned to the point of being orange and their necks were nearly as thick as their heads. The men had multiple tattoos, called each other "brah!," and laughed raucously at inappropriate sexist jokes and body functions. They also spent some time admiring their own pectoral muscles. When they got too rowdy, the women guarding the cage would give them withering glares of derision.

Conversely, there were several men who were left loose to walk around the camp. Gambit envied them in that they had pants and were well-groomed and fed, but that was where the jealously ended. He witnessed one man arranging a pile of about twenty decorative throw pillows on a settee. Another man stood patiently as one of the women showed him two swatches of equally purple fabric. The man weighed in his opinion: "They're both nice, but whatever you think, dear." There were a pair of men checking things off their "Honey-Do" lists. Yet another man was bringing home a box of feminine products from the bazaar. He hadn't even put the box of tampons in a bag; he was walking around with the box under his arm.

_I gotta get __**outta**__ here,_ Gambit thought to himself in a panic. "Ladies...I'm _flattered_. But you really don't wanna keep me."

The girls all made "aw!" sounds at his accent. "He's so sweet! Yes you are! Yes you are!"

"I'm not de kinda guy you want t'have around. I'm not de one you wanna bring home t'your mamma...or introduce t'your older brother," Gambit said. "Please don't do that. Me an' older brothers don't go."

"Look at him, trying to be all modest...," said the redhead. "Don't you worry, sweetie. We'll have you all cleaned up in time for dinner."

Gambit momentarily paused at the thought of dinner. It was tempting. Then he shook his head. "Thank you kindly for de invite, but let me be honest, I'm totally wrong for you."

The girls looked at each other with smiles on their faces. "He's being _honest_!" said the brunette. She reached behind her back to unclasp her top.

"Nonononono!" Gambit said emphatically. "I'm totally not! Honesty is not what I'm known for. Quite de opposite in fact."

"He's so open about his shortcomings," said the dark-haired woman. She was wiggling out of her bikini bottoms.

Gambit held out his hands as if to say STOP! At a loss, he declared: "I'm just getting over a serious relationship! I'm not ready to get too involved wit' another woman!"

The redhead made a sympathetic noise. "The poor thing's heart is broken. We'll help you get over her." The woman hopped up onto the edge of the cauldron and put her shapely legs into the water.

Gambit looked around for a means of escape. "Ah...uhm...Wait! You have t'know I'm only just now startin' to see other people. And well, one of 'em might frown on hearin' tell of me bein' involved in dis particular incident. I don't want her t'get de wrong impression-that I'm into this kinda thing!"

The three women plopped into the cauldron with him. He was completely surrounded. "He's so thoughtful of other people's feelings," the brunette said.

"I'm tellin' you! I'm bad news! I've got a past!"

"He's troubled..."

"We can help you change!

"So romantic...a reformed man!"

Gambit found himself in the center of the cauldron being petted in a consoling manner by three nude women. He tried to grasp their hands or at least halt their progress, but now one of the women had wrapped her arms around him and was kissing the side of his face. "Can we just talk?" he exclaimed. "I'm feelin' like we're gettin' a little off track here."

"He wants to talk-about his _feelings_!" This only seemed to excite them more.

"Justaminute!" Gambit cried. Under the water, someone's hand was resting very high on his thigh. "I can't stay here! I gotta go find my-my..."

The girls looked at him expectantly.

"My teammate," he concluded. "We're bot' trapped, we don't belong here. I gotta get her out and get her home!"

The dark-haired girl pulled herself close. "You could take _me_ home."

"No, me," said the brunette. "She's the bossy one, I'm the sweet one."

The redhead pouted. "You'd like me best. I'm the best cook."

"No, I am!" said the dark-haired girl. She looked at Gambit with dark hooded eyes. "Didn't you like my pie? I'd love to serve you another piece!" She seized his lower lip and tugged it playfully.

"My pie is better than hers," said the brunette, curling her fingers in his hair. "Just wait 'til you have it hot!"

"I'm known for my strawberry pie," said the redhead ,whose hands were under the water. "You could have it with whipped cream!"

Gambit looked from one woman to the next. He diplomatically said: "I like t'eat all kinds a pie! In fact, I was de state fair pie-eatin' champion. And considerin' I'm from de state of Louisiana where we're known for pie-eatin', that makes me de best pie eater in de U.S. of A."

The women smiled delightedly. "We're definitely keeping you!" said the dark-haired woman.

Gambit gave up and sank down into the water, then submerged himself entirely. The girls watched him disappear. Bubbles emerged from his mouth and nose to float to the surface.

"What's he doing?" the brunette asked.

"Is that the catch of the day?" asked a voice. The three women turned to see their towheaded leader standing by the cauldron, a pie in her hand.

"He's shy," said the redhead and pointed down at the bubbles. "We think he's been abused."

"He **likes** abuse. Anyway, I've got something for him," the Harpies' leader said and held out the pie.

"Will he eat it?" asked the dark-haired woman.

The leader smiled knowingly from behind her mask. "Oh...I _know_ he'll eat it. He's had it before and he **loves** it. In fact, I don't think I've _ever_ met a man who likes eating pie more. Now, fish him out before he drowns himself...and have him brought to my tent."

CUT TO:

INT. THE JEAN GREY SCHOOL CONFERENCE ROOM, SALEM CENTER – NIGHT

Bobby Drake was apoplectic. He was watching the unedited footage for the next episode of _Paradise Lust: Oceans of Passion!_.

"How is this happening?" he asked and pointed at the television screen. Gambit was being fished out of a cauldron by three gorgeous naked women. Gambit was resisting so the women began to tie him up.

"How is this happening?" Gambit cried as he was carried off to a large white tent.

"This is **not** fair," Bobby said. "Look at him! He doesn't want to be there! Why couldn't _I _have been abducted by Mojo?"

"You're not leading man material," Joanna said. "You're comic relief at best. But maybe Mojo could put you in a buddy picture."

"This is unbelievable," Bobby complained. Gambit was now being tied down to a bed.

"Help!" Gambit cried. "This isn't funny! Let me go!"

"Look!" said one of the girls. "We've got some nice pie for you."

Gambit looked at the girls dubiously. His mouth formed a little moue. "What kind?" he asked sullenly.

"It's chess pie," said the dark-haired girl.

Gambit's expression changed. "Really?" he asked. "A _real_ chess pie? Wit' de cornmeal and de vinegar and everything?"

The girls nodded.

"I suppose I could eat a piece," Gambit agreed.

The pie was sitting on a sideboard. There was a shot of one of the women cutting a slice of pie and plating it. She brought the pie to the bed and handed each of the other two women a fork.

"Can't you untie me?" Gambit pleaded.

"Open wide!" said the redhead and held a forkful of pie towards Gambit's mouth.

Gambit sighed, then opened his mouth. The girl fed him a bite.

"How is it?" the brunette asked.

Gambit swallowed. "It tastes like home," he told them.

The girls grinned. "It's got a secret ingredient," said the dark-haired woman as she fed Gambit a second bite.

"Don't eat the pie!" Bobby exclaimed at the television.

"Bobby, sit down and shut up!" Joanna snapped.

"Uhm," Gambit said chewing. "Is it lemon?"

The girls shook their heads 'no.'

"Cinnamon?"

"The pie is drugged, you doofus!" Bobby cried.

The girls giggled. "Have some more," said the redhead.

All in all, Gambit ate two and a half helpings of pie. Bobby put his head in his hands. The giggling girls left the tent. From the tent interior, you could see their shadows falling on the white tent walls. They began having a hushed conversation. Gambit lifted his head to look around. The tent was a large square. The fabric was pulled up to a central point over his head. The bed he was bound to was set on four sturdy wooden posts. He attempted to wiggle his hand from one of the bindings.

"I get to go first," said one of the girls loudly. "It was _my_ pie that caught him."

"I'm the one who cleaned him up!" announced another girl.

"He likes me best, I can tell!" said the third girl.

Gambit began tugging furiously at the ropes.

"We'll just have to settle this the Harpy way," said the dark-haired girl.

"All right," the redhead agreed. "What'll it be...pudding or _Jell-O®_?"

"_Jell-O_," said the brunette. "What colors have we got?"

Gambit stared at the three silhouettes.

"Green or red," said the dark-haired girl.

"I prefer red," said the redhead.

"All right, I'll go inflate the kiddie pool. You go get the _Jell-O_."

Bobby stared at the television set. "Wait...what-what are they going to do? Why aren't they showing it?"

"Maybe they're trying to leave something to the imagination," Joanna suggested.

Gambit's hand squirmed free from one of the ropes and he began untying his other wrist. Outside the tent, one of the curvaceous female shadows dragged over a kiddie pool. The other pair dumped two buckets of what had to be _Jell-O_ into the pool. Gambit's attention was drawn to the shadows when they each stepped into the pool and faced off against one another.

"Okay, let's start on three...One-two-_three_!"

There was a sudden flailing of limbs, sliding bodies, and little grunts of effort punctuated by squeals as the girls fell upon one another. Gambit stared for several long moments, then turned and began fumbling frantically at the ropes.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Gambit was saying. His expression was anxious. Outside the girls continued their wrestling match.

"That's you pinned, Tami!" said one of the girls.

"Ooh!" Tami moaned.

Gambit was sweating now. "What is happening t'me?" he panted. He looked down at himself and said: "Stop it!"

There was another squeal from outside the tent. "Oh! It's slippery!" said one of the girls.

Gambit got his other hand free and quickly sat up. The girls entered the tent, covered head to toe in red _Jell-O_. Gambit pulled a decorative pillow over his lap.

"We decided we'll all go at once," said the redhead.

Gambit was shaking his head.

Another shadow appeared outside the tent. The tent flaps were tossed aside and a woman with an impressive bird-mask headdress strode into the tent. "No you won't," she told the girls. "This one is mine."

"Aww!" said the girls.

"Leave us!" the woman commanded and pointed to the tent exit.

The women pouted and reluctantly departed. When they were gone, the Harpies' leader turned back to the bed. She had lots of blond hair that tumbled down her shoulders. She was petite and wasp-waisted. Her lips were full and pouty and very distinctive. Gambit felt that he'd seen those lips before.

"Erm...hello there, _chere_," he said to the Harpies' leader. "This is extremely awkward..."

The woman set her hands on her hips. "This is actually extremely _disappointing_," she told him. "This is **not **what I signed up for!"

Gambit blinked at her. "Do I-have we met?" he asked.

The woman tilted her head forward and removed her mask. When she righted herself, she tossed back her long blond hair. Gambit's eyes goggled.

"Spat!" he said. "What are you doin' here?"

SPAT frowned at him and tossed her headdress onto a chair. "I should ask you the same question!" she said. "This wasn't in the script! _You're_ supposed to be Longshot!"

Gambit opened his mouth in shocked protest. "Longshot!" he exclaimed. "_That_ guy? He's the poor man's me!"

Spat snorted. "He's the _original_. And he's a lot nicer than you!"

"I'm plenty nice!" Gambit shot back. "Anyway, I didn't ask t'be here!"

Spat blinked. "You didn't?" she asked.

"Of course not! I'm being held prisoner!" Gambit gestured to his bound ankles.

Spat removed a rolled up sheaf of papers from the back of her bikini and consulted its contents. "Well...yeah, that part's in here," she said. "You're supposed to protest the women's affections because you're trying to remain true to your lady love."

"I'm just _trying_ to get out of here!" Gambit said.

"And then I come in and you're supposed to charm me," Spat told him, reading on. "So that I fall in love with you and help you escape."

"I like de escaping part," Gambit told her. "Are you saying you-_auditioned_ for this part?"

Spat smoothed a hand down the front of her bikini top. "Honey, I was _made_ for this part."

"You mean you were typecast," Gambit told her.

She threw the script at him. "You're still a jerk."

Gambit picked up the script and consulted it. "What de hell?" he said as he flipped through the pages.

"All right, let's just get on with the show," Spat said and walked over to the bed.

"What are you doin'?" Gambit asked her as she climbed up on the bed.

"Following direction," she said and crawled over to him.

"Hey...now waitaminute."

Spat pulled the script from his hands and tossed it to the floor. She reached for the pillow on his lap. Gambit seized it and held it in place.

"What are you doing?" Spat asked him.

"I'll tell you what we're not doing. We're _not_ doing **this**," he said.

"Listen up, Gambit!" Spat spat. "You're not going to get me cancelled!" She grabbed the pillow and tried to wrestle it from his grip.

"Stop it!" Gambit yelled. "I'm not going t'let you assault me!"

Spat sat back on her heels and looked at him with disgust. "You can't be serious. It's not assault! I'm a woman! Women can't assault men!"

"This is reverse discrimination!" Gambit told her. "And your advances are unwelcome."

Spat seized the pillow from Gambit's grip and held it over his face. "That's it, this is going to be a snuff film!" She straddled him and bore down on the pillow.

"Mmmph!" Gambit said from under the pillow. He grabbed a fistful of her hair at the nape of her neck. Spat shrieked a little and released the pillow to rescue her hair. Gambit tossed the pillow aside and gasped. Now they were wrestling around on the bed.

Frenzy slurped loudly from her straw, draining the contents of her Big Gulp. Bobby and Warbird turned to regard her with a look of annoyance. Bobby was drawn back to the screen by the sounds of struggle that had stopped sounding so much like struggle and more like something else entirely.

Sure enough, Gambit and Spat were kissing one another in a passionately violent way. Hair-pulling was involved.

"Geez," Bobby said. "They're really going at it."

"Wait!" Gambit said, holding Spat by the shoulders. "We can't do this!"

Spat panted through her bee-stung lips. "It's in the script!" she said.

"What happens after?" Gambit asked. "What's supposed t'happen after you help me escape?"

Spat placed her hands on the bed on either side of Gambit's head. She thought for a moment. "I'm supposed to be taken in to the temple guards' custody where I catch the eye of the Captain. Then he and I are going to have a passionate romance and get our own spinoff series."

"Are you _serious_?" he asked her.

"Well, yeah," she said and leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve the script. She reviewed her highlighted lines.

"And they told you Longshot was supposed t'be cast in my role?" Gambit asked.

Spat pouted. "Yes."

"So what makes you think any of dis other stuff is true?" he continued, taking the script and shaking it at her.

Spat frowned down at him. "I signed a contract..." she said, though now she looked doubtful.

"You can still help me escape," he told her and pointed at several stanzas of text. "Only let's just skip this part."

Spat looked down at where she straddled Gambit's waist. "Our sponsors won't be happy if they don't see their product in action."

"Believe me, it's workin' fine," Gambit said uncomfortably.

"So you _really_ don't want to?" Spat asked.

"Nothin' personal," Gambit told her.

Spat sat up. "When did you become such a-a wuss?"

"Please won't you help me, Spat?" Gambit beseeched.

"Stop with the puppy-dog eyes," Spat said and climbed off Gambit's waist. She began to untie his ankle. "I guess I should have known something was up when I saw Rogue. No wonder you're acting all freaked out."

Gambit grasped Spat by the upper arms. "You've seen Rogue? She's here?"

"Yeah...well, not here _here_. She's up at the temple," Spat said. "Figures. Wherever _she_ is, you're never far behind."

Gambit climbed out of the bed. "Can't I have some pants?" he asked her, cupping his hands over his crotch. It wasn't really doing much to conceal anything.

Spat was looking down at him. She shrugged and sighed a bit. "I guess." She walked to the chest at the foot of the bed and opened it.

"What's Rogue doin' up at de temple?" Gambit asked.

Spat tossed out several garments. "Getting worshipped," she said. "Pampered, fed, serviced."

Spat offered Gambit a pair of breeches which he gratefully accepted.

Bobby said: "Oh, for crying out loud...can _someone _get Gambit a pair of pants that actually **fit**?"

From the back of the room Joanna said: "Your pants would be tight too if you were swinging that much pipe."

Bobby turned to where Joanna was sitting with her feet propped up on the conference room table. "Hey, peanut gallery. Shut it."

Gambit was looking down at his pants. "Are these even men's pants?" he asked.

"They should loosen up in a couple of hours...you know, when you...," Spat held her hand out flat and then let her wrist go limp.

"Hours!" Gambit asked and gestured at his crotch. "What did you _do_ t'me?"

Spat put her hands on her hips. "You didn't have to eat half a pie," she told him.

Gambit tightened the laces on the front of the breeches. "De sad thing is, I had t'force myself t'stop eatin' it."

"You were eating that pie like you hadn't had it in years," Spat said.

"It _had_ been awhile...'til de other day when my roommate had me try her pie-empanada, I think she called it."

"How was it?" Spat asked.

Gambit thought a moment. "Satisfying. But you know...I kinda prefer a sweeter pie."

Warbird stood from her chair. "All this talk of dessert has made me...peckish..."

"Heh," Bobby said. "Good one."

Warbird gave him a curious look and cocked her head. "I will be upstairs exploring my options. Would you like me to prepare something for you?"

Bobby said: "Uhm...no thanks. And I really wish we could clarify that we are all talking about food here."

"How long is this going to go on for?" Joanna asked with annoyance.

"Seriously," Bobby said, and pointed at the screen. "He's eaten so much pie, I'm surprised he hasn't gotten sick."

Joanna squeaked her straw in and out of the cup's lid. "I saw him get sick once...from some cheap roadside diner pie he picked up. Gambit used to eat just about _anything_. I think he's got a more refined palette now."

"Let's just go back to watching the show," Bobby said after a moment and turned back to the television.

"Uhm...I should probably warn you about the other side-effect...," Spat hedged.

Gambit's eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "What other side-effect?" he asked slowly with deadly malice.

Spat gnawed her lip. "You might start to feel...the need to vent. Profusely. And given your usual verbosity, it's probably going to be like Montezuma's Revenge of the Mouth."

Gambit rubbed his hands through his hair. "Spat...I swear-you might _actually_ kill me this time."

"Sowwy Wemmy," Spat said sweetly. "I thought I was gonna get lucky. With Longshot. And that's like, really **really** lucky."

"Let's just move on...How do I get up t'de temple?" Gambit asked Spat.

Spat glanced at the tent door. "The fastest way is the jungle path..." she began. "But that's crawling with temple guards."

"Is there another option?" Gambit asked.

"Well, we can wait a little bit until it's dark and slip out the back way. It's a bit of a climb, but we can take the route along the river," Spat told him. "What are you going to do when you get to the temple? Rogue's surrounded by about five-dozen worshippers and guards."

Gambit touched the strap on his arm. "I only need t'get close t'her. The rest will sort out."

Spat frowned at him. "_That's_ your plan? You're nuts. Or maybe borderline retarded."

Gambit made an all-encompassing gesture at himself. "This is all a carefully contrived ruse to fool people into underestimating me. What's _your_ excuse?"

"Hey!" Spat snapped.

"You're de one who signed a contract to be involved wit' dis craziness," Gambit continued.

Spat held her arms out to her sides. "Yeah, well the whole bounty hunter slash adventurer gig kinda got to be a bummer."

Gambit crossed his arms. "Try bein' de bounty huntee," he said.

"Hm, yeah. Sorry about that whole...thing," Spat told him. "But you're probably right. Signing that contract might have been a mistake. That Captain is not exactly what I was hoping for. He's a little bit of an arrogant prick."

"What did you expect from some showbiz guy?" Gambit asked her. "They love de spotlight and getting all de attention."

"Look at you talking. You love attention," Spat told him.

"Not _this_ kind of attention! I prefer a more one-on-one situation," he flapped a hand at one of the annoying cameras. "This is too much exposure for me. Most of de time, I'm practically wallpaper. Which suits me fine. I don't need t'be drawin' fire. All ready got Exodus chasing me across Manhattan. What'll it be next? Gettin' de snot beat outta me by The Avengers? Now that'd be **really** stupid."

"All right all right," Spat said and raised her hands. "Listen. I'll get you up to the temple. I can divert the Captain's attention while you sneak in to find Rogue. **That**, my friend, is a real plan."

From outside came a splintering crack and then a crashing noise. Then the sound of several voices going: "_WOOOOOO_!" all at once.

"What was that?" Gambit asked. "Nothin' good ever happened after someone said: _wooo_!"

Spat looked alarmed. "Oh no!" she dashed to the tent flap and peered out. "The fratboy meatheads have got out!"

Gambit approached the open tent door to stand behind her. "What?" he asked. "You mean those guys you had in a cage?"

Several muscled meatheads ran past, their arms raised. Somehow, red Solo cups had appeared in their hands.

Gambit held his hands to his ears. "What's that horrible noise?"

"It's Nickelback!" Spat cried. "They've gone wild! It's like Spring Break out there! Who let them out?"

There was an intense flare of light in the growing darkness. The campfires around the tents suddenly became bonfires. A settee and several pillows were consigned to the flames. In the dancing shadows a large, broad-chested man appeared. He was carrying a sword.

"I'm gonna hazard a guess and say_ that guy_ let 'em out," Gambit said and pointed.

Several of the spear-bearing Harpies approached the man, but then caught sight of his flowing golden hair, his muscled chest, and chiseled features. They swooned helplessly. The tamed men emerged from their tents in their tasteful pajama bottoms brandishing baseball bats, golf clubs, and bedside lamps. Asserting their masculinity, they began running after the fratboy meatheads. Unfortunately, this triggered the meatheads' instincts to band together (though their usual testosterone-fueled idiocy often put them at odds with one another). There was a terrible clash of two worlds. Fortunately, it appeared the older, tax-paying, wage-earning males were winning, fueled by their irritation at having their gardens trampled and private property abused.

"Get off my lawn!" screamed a man wielding a nine iron.

"It's the Captain!" Spat declared with a little sigh, pointing at the sword-bearing man.

Gambit looked down at Spat then back at the Captain who was dramatically heading in their direction in slow-motion, surrounded by flames and smoke.

"_Him_?" Gambit asked, giving the man a disgusted look. "He's much too old for you!"

Spat glanced back at Gambit. "No, he's not! And I am way more mature than I look!" she told him.

"Well that's good," Gambit said. "Because you **look** barely legal."

"You, there," the Captain said and raised his arm to point. "Are you Remy LeBeau, otherwise known as Gambit?"

Gambit looked at the heroically-posed Captain. "Gambit?" Gambit repeated. "No. No, I'm James."

The Captain regarded Gambit stoically. "I do not believe you. Guards, seize him!"

Several men appeared to surround the tent. They were holding ropes.

"Seriously?" Gambit said, annoyed. "Not again."

Spat grasped Gambit's arm. "Oh, no you don't," she told the Captain. "He's _my_ captive. You can't just come into my camp and start throwing your weight around, buddy."

The Captain glanced at Spat dismissively. "I am assuming control of this operation," he told her and directed their gaze to the riotous meatheads, "in the capture and refinement of these idiots. They will better serve as soldiers than your housepets. And then _you_ can perform in a more fitting role as befitting of the weaker sex. Cooking and cleaning and what have you."

"**Ex**-_cuse_ me?" Spat said, her hands on her hips. "You don't get to pick my _role,_ Captain. Our "housepets" elected to stay here rather than go up to Temple Big-Schlong On The Hill with _you_! And by the way, I happen to _**like **_my domestic duties so how _dare_ you belittle me!"

"You arrogant prick!" Gambit told him. "What kinda captain are you, anyway? You're supposed t'serve de people you protect...you answer t'them, not de other way around!"

"Shh..." Spat told him. "Remy...you're _drawing fire_."

"I'm sick of these egotistical jerks comin' around actin' all self-righteous and no one calling them out on their crap!" Gambit snapped.

"Here, here!" Bobby said.

"Did you just agree with Gambit?" Joanna asked.

"Have I missed anything?" Warbird asked as she re-entered the conference room, her hand riffling in a bag of _Doritos_.

Suddenly, the sides of Spat's tent caught flame. Gambit and Spat were forced from the cover of the tent into the courtyard. The Captain stood before them.

"My role is to ensure our survival by any means necessary," he told Gambit (as Spat was beneath his notice). "Even if that means allowing you, as pathetic as you are, to serve our queen. And if **that** doesn't work, I will take care of her myself. Then _I'll_ be the hero!"

"That's definitely **not** in the script!" Spat yelled at the Captain.

Suddenly a powerful draft caused all the fires to flare and spark. Tents fluttered in the breeze. Gambit and Spat threw up their arms to keep the flying dust from their eyes.

From above came a terrible sound: "_WAURRK_!"

"Gah!" Gambit said. "It's that giant flippin' bird again!"

The bright belly and the wings of an enormous bird filled the night sky, it's light plumage painted red and orange by the dancing flames. The bird squawked again, it's giant clawed feet pawing the air as it flapped its wings to remain aloft over the camp.

"Run away!" Gambit and Spat cried.

Spat grasped Gambit's wrist and together they ran to disappear into the dark jungle.

FADE OUT


	12. Cameo Appearance

ACT FOUR

Scene E

FADE IN:

INT. THE GODDESS' TEMPLE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – NIGHT

Rogue was laying in her bed. The fabric draping the bed trembled and swayed with the rumblings of the volcano. Rogue's face was very flushed, her eyes dark, her hair wild. It was hot. It was humid. Rogue's skin glistened attractively (with sweat). She was breathing heavily, her eyes fixed on the curtain of netting above her head. It took all of her willpower not to rip off her robe.

"Baseball...," she breathed, trying to distract herself. "The Blob in a Speedo...Wolverine's back hair..."

Rogue kept her thighs pressed tightly together, as if at any moment they might spontaneously throw themselves apart. She writhed around on the bed like a supermodel on the hood of a TransAm in a 1980s music video. Earlier in the day, she had distracted herself by talking to her three captives. Rogue had gone into great detail about the logistics of a long-distance relationship, her conflicted emotions, and her fear of committing herself to something so quickly without having complete resolution to past personal dilemmas. The captives had eventually lapsed into comas.

Now Rogue had very little to distract herself from the problem at hand, i.e.: her throbbing loins. This humiliating objectification of her sexuality was unbearable. Worse was being cast as the damsel in distress, needing rescue. Since when did she need someone to come save her, to liberate her, to solve her problems? Rogue heard the steady rumble of the volcano outside suddenly escalate. She could possibly delay or resolve the imminent threat of the volcano by throwing herself at one of the captives, who were splayed out on the floor of her chamber sound asleep. She could fall into the arms of a man for a night of passion. But that seemed to be a **bit**_ out of character_. Rogue was in control of her powers. Shouldn't she be in control of her emotions and the rest of her body as well? Maybe **that** was the worst thing...not being in control of this situation. Why _shouldn't _she assume control? She was the **queen****, **hot dammit!

Rogue threw herself to her hands and knees to crawl to the edge of the bed. Now on her knees, she yanked back the curtains. She was startled to find the Captain standing behind them. The volcano outside emitted a sudden blast of hot smoke and smoldering rock. Rogue was thrown forward. The Captain caught her against his bare chest.

"Your Royal Hotness," the Captain said. "Romy demands satisfaction!"

Rogue attempted to pull herself back from the Captain's powerful embrace. "Ah all ready told you...," she began. "Ah'm savin' mahself for the right man!"

The Captain held her firmly by the arms. "This is a matter of life and death...!" he said, his eyes boring into hers with compelling fervor. "It is your duty! Do as you are directed, and you will spare us all!"

Rogue put her hands to his chest and pushed but he only held her more tightly. "Ah'm not gonna subject mahself t'this nonsense for the sake of some stupid plot! It makes **no** sense whatsoever!"

"Do you want to get us cancelled?" the Captain asked hotly, shaking Rogue and sending her hair falling into her eyes. "You don't know what it's like! Having the plug pulled on your show time and again! I barely escaped the prison series _Oz_."

Rogue paused. "You were in _Oz_? But that was years and years ago!"

"Do you know how difficult it is to find work as a former action star in his mature years?" he asked.

"Ah imagine slightly less difficult than bein' a female actor over the age of forty...," Rogue answered irritably.

"I am tired of being typecast as the villain," the Captain continued. "This is _**my **_breakout role! **You** could be _A Somebody. _ You've got the face, the body..."

"What about talent?" Rogue asked.

"That's not important!" he snapped and then kissed her.

Rogue's eyes went wide as his lips mashed into hers. "Mmmph!" she said as he fell on top of her, bearing her to the bed. The Captain pinned her wrists to the mattress.

"If you're going to be a leading lady," the Captain said and reached for his belt, "you're going to need a leading **man**!"

"Ah demand a re-write!" Rogue snapped and raised her leg to slam her knee into Captain's groin. With her one freed hand she reached out and seized the hilt of his sword. As he retreated to fold over his injured crotch, the sword pulled free of the scabbard. Rogue swung the sword and the Captain fell back. A lock of white-blond hair fell to the ground. Rogue clambered off the bed, the sword pointing at the Captain's chest.

"Touch me again and I'll wring your brain out like a sponge," she told him. "Now...take off your pants!"

The Captain's eyes grew wide. "Wha-what?" he said, his hands still cupped over his injury.

"Pants! Take 'em off!" Rogue ordered.

The Captain hesitated, then unlaced his breeches. He hopped around on one foot to remove his boot, then the other before dropping his drawers.

"Toss 'em over!" Rogue said, holding out her hand. The Captain tossed over his pants, which Rogue caught. She threw them over her shoulder. "Okay...now-," she looked around the chamber at a loss.

With his hands raised in surrender, the Captain said: "You won't escape. You're completely surrounded! I need only raise the alarm and bring the guards into this chamber."

Rogue removed her robe's belt. "Then Ah'll see what Ah can do about shuttin' you up!"

The Captain's mouth opened. There was a sudden sharp crack and the Captain's eyes widened for a moment before rolling back into his head. He toppled forward onto the carpet. Behind him stood a figure cloaked in shadow. His eyes flashed in the darkness.

"Remy!" Rogue cried and leapt over the Captain's prone form to wrap her arm around the man's neck. Compulsively, she pressed her mouth to his.

The man drew back. "Hey!" he said brightly. "That was friendly! Thanks!"

Rogue drew back with a gasp. "Wha-!" she said, her face burning. "Longshot!"

LONGSHOT grinned at her a moment before she once more pressed her lips to his with fervent desire. She would have really made an embarrassment of herself if he hadn't stopped her. He held her firmly but gently with his free hand. Rogue stumbled back a few steps, her hand pressed to her lips.

"Ah'm sorry!" she said. "Ah can't control it!"

"It's okay! I actually get that a lot," he said and rubbed his forehead with the back of his forearm. He was holding a long stiff object in his hand. On the ground, the Captain groaned. Longshot reached down and smacked him in the back of the head a second time.

"What is that?" Rogue asked and pointed at the object.

Longshot held it up and looked at it. "I dunno. I found it in the Captain's belt. But it looks like a big-."

Rogue slapped it out of his hand and it fell to the ground with a clatter. "Longshot, how did you get here? How did you find me?"

Longshot set his hands on his hips. "Well..I'm not really Longshot at all. I'm some leftover bits and pieces from Spiral's Shoppe. Actually, I'm even _less_ than Longshot than usual. I lost a few..._essential_ pieces on my way over!"

Rogue glanced down at his loincloth. She might have seemed a little disappointed.

"But that's all right," Longshot continued. "Spiral breaks me all the time. She'll put me back together."

Rogue shook her head, her expression somewhat horrified. She set the sword down onto the bed while she stepped into the breeches she'd taken from the Captain. She pulled them up and tucked the ends of the short robe into her newly acquired pants. Retying the belt, she slipped the sword through it. "How did you get in?" she asked.

"I took the back way," Longshot replied. "C'mon. I'll show you. Your ride is waiting."

Rogue gestured at the Captain. "Help me with him, will you?"

Together they rolled the Captain up in the carpet. Rogue kicked it once in the crotch-region for good measure. "Arrogant prick!" she said to it.

"Follow me!" Pseudo-Longshot said. Rogue trotted after his lithe handsome form, transfixed by the sight of his lovely dimples. Instead of taking the right set of stairs down the pyramid, they took the left. They skirted the side of the pyramid in near-complete darkness (the rumbling volcano was providing a threatening sort of reddish-light). They came the the tall, tall wall of golden stone. Rogue looked upward. There was a tangle of vines all along the wall.

"Up we go," Longshot said, and began to climb. Rogue stared at him from below for a heartbeat or two before shaking herself.

Rogue followed, her hands grasping at the rough vines, her feet seeking out toeholds. The volcano belched out a plume of smoke, then a blast thundered through the air. The escaping pair clung to the vines as the ground shook. Behind them in the village, the natives were restless. Rogue could hear them calling to one another in alarm.

"Hurry!" Rogue said, and began climbing again. Longshot was moving at a slower pace.

"Rogue," he said, "you'll find your ride behind this wall. I've tied it to a tree. You need to get to Gambit. He should be in the Harpy camp. He knows a way out!"

Rogue looked back at Longshot, who had fallen behind. "Won't you be coming?" she asked him. Another blast from the volcano had her clinging helplessly by her arms. Her legs swung free. Longshot looked up at her, holding onto the vines by one hand. She heard a slight _pop!_ as one of his fingers came free of it's socket. "Longshot!" she cried and reached out her hand.

"Don't worry about me!" he called. "I told you, I'm just a construct! Now go! And watch out for—!"

Another blast and they were bathed in the red hot glow of molten lava as it began to erupt from the volcano. The temple and the temple grounds were suddenly pelted with hot black rock. Another _pop! pop! _and Longshot's fingers pulled free. He fell several yards to the cobblestones below to shatter on the ground like a broken doll. Rogue gasped, tears in her eyes. Her feet scrambled on the wall, seeking a place amongst the twisted vines. The wall rocked as if it were trying to shake her off. Rogue gritted her teeth until the worst of the tremors ended. Then she continued her climb upwards. She reached the top and hauled herself over the edge. Rogue's eyes searched the darkness for anything beyond the wall. On this side, all was cast in dark shadow from the glowing light of the volcano. Rogue picked her way carefully down the wall in almost complete darkness. A few feet from the bottom, Rogue dropped the rest of the way. She found herself at the edge of a jungle. Something moved in the darkness.

"_Wark wark_!" called a strange creature.

Rogue crept forward towards the sound, the sword held in her grip. As her eyes adjusted, she spied a large creature moving about. The shadow emerged from the gloom, its head cocked slightly to the side.

"_Wark_?" it said again.

"Aw!" Rogue said. It was an adorable giant bird. Its black button eyes blinked at her. Its cute beak smiled. When she reached out a hand to pet it, it tried to bite her. She smacked it with the flat of the sword.

The giant bird (or what Rogue was guessing was the "before" version of the Kentucky Fried Chocobo) was bridled and tied to a tree. Rogue untied the bird and drew the reins over its head. She pulled herself onto its fluffy back. She steered it deeper into the jungle.

Rogue had no idea where the Harpy camp might be as she had not seen anything of this island beyond the temple walls. She figured she'd have to wait until dawn before she could get her bearings. In the meantime, she would let the bird take her as far away from the temple and the volcano as possible. They trotted along at a brisk pace and the temple walls and volcano receded behind them. The earth still trembled as the eruption fumed in the distance.

The bird halted at the edge of a cliff. Rogue guided the bird along it. Now free from the jungle growth she could see the island spread out below her, glowing silver in the moonlight. Ahead was a sparkling line of light; a waterfall cascading over the cliff to a dark pool below. Rogue nudged the bird forward towards it. She made it walk slowly as the ground beneath them was still rumbling, sending bits of earth and dirt tumbling off the side of the cliff. The gentle rocking of the bird's gate did nothing for the situation going on in Rogue's pants. Rogue wondered if she shouldn't stop for the night and try to sleep off the effects of this libidinal experience.

Something clattered into the path before her. It was a crumpled up Solo cup. She stared at it for a moment. From the interior of the forest came a loud, long belch followed by raucous laughter. As she looked along the path, she spied more cups as well as smashed beer cans.

From the forest she heard a chant ring out: "_Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!_"

The hair on Rogue's arms raised as gooseflesh prickled her skin. "C'mon!" she hissed to the bird and urged it forward with her heels. "Hurry!"

The bird trotted forward along the path, its large feet sent several Solo cups clattering over one another. Then the chanting from the jungle ceased and was replaced with a cry that sent Rogue's heart pounding with fear.

"_WOOOOOOOO_!"

FADE TO BLACK

ACT FOUR

Scene F

FADE IN:

EXT. RIVERSIDE PATH, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – NIGHT

"Y'know, I'd like t'go at least an hour wit'out getting soaked through t'de bone," Gambit complained. "I'm about t'grow gills here."

Spat and Gambit were caught in a sudden torrential tropical rainstorm. They were taking shelter beneath a broad-leafed tree. Occasionally, a stream of water would pour down onto them from above as if from a spout.

"What are _you_ complaining about?" Spat griped. "You're not in a fur bikini. I smell like a wet dog."

Lightening momentarily lit the duo in harsh blue-white light. Thunder cracked the sky. Gambit and Spat sat with their backs against the tree, waiting out the storm.

"I can't believe you signed up to be here," Gambit said to Spat.

"As you've mentioned several times," Spat responded. "But look at it from my point of view... adventure, tropical locale, decent pay, fame...and the chance to meet a nice guy."

"You came here to meet a man?" Gambit asked incredulously. "That's kinda...desperate."

Spat had her legs drawn up with her elbows resting on her knees. "You don't know what it's like out there," she said, staring out at the rain. "It's not like I haven't _tried_ to find the right guy. You know there's this website to help you meet people...Plenty of Fish, it's called. What they should have called it was _Deadliest Catch_. There are some real nutso fish out there, and I've had to throw all of 'em back."

"Maybe you're tryin' too hard. I'd heard that love finds you. That de moment you stop lookin' is when you find what you're lookin' for," Gambit said.

"That's all well and good for you to say," Spat responded. "You _have_ someone."

"I don't," Gambit told her. "Rogue and I are Splitsville."

Spat turned her head to regard him. "Really? I'm-I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah...well..." Gambit said, picking apart a fallen leaf.

"So...what happened?" she asked.

"I might've broke it off wit' her," Gambit replied.

"Why?" Spat asked. "I got the impression you were more than a little crazy about her."

Gambit sighed. "Our relationship was on life support. Someone had t'pull de plug. I could tell she wanted an out."

"Ouch," Spat said. "That sucks."

He shrugged and tossed the leaf stem onto the ground. "Rogue's sort of an..._internal_ person. Spends a lot of time thinkin' to herself. I felt pretty much lonely even when I was wit' her. And you're right...I like attention. Female attention."

"Who's the desperate one now?" Spat asked.

"I know I wasn't de greatest boyfriend ever. But I do want her t'be happy. So de worst thing wasn't de breakup part," Gambit continued. "De worst was seein' how easily replaced I was. Maybe it's just me, but I have a hard time lettin' things go. I can't wrap my head around just pickin' up and movin' on wit' someone else so quick."

"Maybe your relationship dragged out too long. Maybe she had enough time to fall out of love with you," Spat countered.

"Thanks, Spat. That makes me feel real good." They listened to the rain fall and the thunder rumble for a moment or two.

Spat finally answered: "I wish I could say it'll get better... but you know, I wonder that it isn't our line of work that's making it so hard to find the right person."

Gambit said: "I just saw a bi-racial, human/mutant, homosexual couple get married in Central Park. If _they_ are able to make it work, I don't see why a mercenary and a thief can't find love."

Spat stared at the side of Gambit's face for a moment. "So...you're back to being a thief? What happened to the X-Men job?"

Gambit looked over at her. "Oh...nothin'. I'm still wit' 'em, for de most part," he paused. "But I do think t'myself sometimes that maybe I should leave."

"You're quitting?" she asked.

"I was going t'call it a '_resignation_,'" he corrected. "'Cause that about sums up how I feel right now."

"Just because you broke up with Rogue doesn't mean you should just turn tail and run, Remy," Spat said.

Gambit shook his head dismissively. "My entire life doesn't revolve around Rogue," he said. "Though sometimes it seems that way. No. This is more about de way things are goin'. Used t'be there was a pretty clear enemy t'fight. I mean, we all had our own personal differences, but then we'd at least be on de same page when it came to major issues. It felt like a family. Seems like nowadays we spend most of our time fightin' wit' each other. Cuttin' each other down when we should be holdin' each other up. Now it really is like a family...my actual _real_ family, what wit' de infighting and de grudges and the backstabbin' and de yelling."

"Must be a real fun time around the holidays," Spat said.

"At least at de holidays it's socially acceptable to start drinkin' at ten a.m.," he said. "And when I'm back in N'Orleans, my family comes t'gether to agree on one thing-that everything is _my _fault_. _I need t'get away from it."

Spat nudged him with her shoulder. "Well, hey. If you ever want to partner up sometime...like the old days, let me know. It'll beat having to babysit for my sister. Those kids of hers are holy terrors, let me tell you. And of course she never fails to remind me that I don't know anything about children as I'm not a mother myself."

"D'you really mean that?" Gambit asked her.

"Yes, my sister can be a real smug b-word. And her kids are certified brats. Possibly demonically possessed."

"No, I mean about the partner up part. Considerin' our track record," Gambit clarified.

"I'm actually a little concerned about you going off on your own," Spat told him. "You're kind of a dum-dum sometimes, Remy. You need someone to help you strategize."

Gambit stared at her, his mouth set in a frown with his lower lip stuck out a bit.

Spat continued: "But you take direction well-with a unique interpretation. And you're able to take on a role and make it completely your own. Kind of like a cajun Robert Downey, Jr."

Gambit continued to stare.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm waitin' for de part where you say somethin' nice about me t'make me want to team up wit' you," he informed her.

"I _did_ say something nice. I said: you're like Robert Downey, Jr."

"That's not necessarily a compliment," Gambit told her. "That guy always struck me as kind of a jerk."

Spat sighed. "Okay, what I meant to say was that I think you're talented, charming, funny, and handsome. But don't feel bad about the jerk part. A lot of women seem to like jerks."

Gambit agreed. "Tell me about it. I hear women sayin' they're just lookin' for a _nice_ guy. But then I know two perfectly nice guys and I couldn't tell you de last time either of them had been on a date."

Spat blinked. "Wait...you know _two_ nice guys...? **Single** nice guys?"

"Yeah. Bobby and Sam. They're single, nice, from traditional families, educated, tax-payin', Christian American men," Gambit told her.

Spat looked doubtful. "They must be ogres or something," she said.

Gambit shook his head. "No. Good-looking. Like in a wholesome kind of way."

Spat's eyes narrowed. "So what's wrong with them? Seven previous marriages? Are they baby-daddies? Heaps of emotional baggage?"

"No, none of that as far as I can tell," Gambit responded. "One's a Yankee though."

"Did it ever occur to you that they might be gay?" Spat guessed.

"It did. But I asked Jean-Claude and he said they weren't. Right after he got done yellin' at me about panderin' to stereotypes."

Spat said: "I have dealt with alternate dimensions, space aliens, clones, and magic spells. And what you're telling me now is the most **unbelievable** thing I have ever heard. Two single, unattached, good-looking men exist in the world."

"It's true. But like you said, women like jerks."

Spat rolled her eyes. "All I meet are jerks. You would **not** believe what I have had to put up with. One of those jerks actually texted me a photo of his penis. No comments, no information regarding the penis. Just a penis. Another one opened with the clever remark, and I quote: '_I'd like to taste you_.' Tell me, who **does** that?*"

"It must be de modern adult male equivalent of pushing a girl down on de playground," Gambit said.

"Well, it's gross. And from what you're telling me, Bobby and Sam sound too good to be true. They're probably into some kind of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ kinky sex stuff," Spat complained.

"I have no idea, nor would I want to," Gambit replied. "But maybe when we get out of here, I could set you up or something."

Spat folded her hands and twiddled her thumbs for a bit. "I don't know, Remy. They sound a bit out of my league. I don't think I can handle any more rejection."

"See, you're all ready settin' yourself up t'fail. They wouldn't reject you, they're too polite. They're all ready housebroke. You won't have t'chase 'em down and put 'em in a cage or anything."

"Hey. I didn't _want_ to put those meatheads in the cage," Spat said defensively. "It's just that some of the girls at the camp kept falling for the same guys over and over again. Then it was all: Why doesn't he call me? Why doesn't he respect me? And I was all: Oh, I dunno. Because you picked him up in that skeevy sandbar area that's crawling with crabs and you slept with him within hours of meeting him? _Ugh_. I locked those guys up hoping to keep the girls out of trouble. They're really sweet girls. I hate seeing them get hurt."

"You can't make decisions for other people, even if they're makin' de wrong decisions. You just have to let them make 'em and hope they figure it out on their own. It's easy t'see de problems wit' other people's relationships when you're on de outside. Less easy when you're de one caught in de middle of it," Gambit told her.

"You've gone all Dr. Phil on me, Remy," Spat said.

"He's always on in de teachers' lounge when classes let out," Gambit said.

"The rain's letting up a bit. You ready to climb?" Spat asked.

Gambit looked out at the rain. "I think you're bein' optimistic about de weather situation, but yes. Let's get going. I hope nothin's happened to Rogue."

They crept out from under the tree and onto a rocky path that ran alongside the river. "She should be okay up at Temple Big-Schlong. I don't think they'd hurt her. The show depends on her."

"That Captain puts off a creeper vibe," Gambit said, picking his way carefully over the rain-slicked rocks. "And why d'you keep calling it Temple Big-Schlong?"

"Wait'll you see it," Spat said. "This huge _thing_ they've erected up there. It's like a monument to how awesome they think they are. I think the Captain is totally overcompensating for something."

Beside them the swollen river rushed past. The water became more and more turbulent as they went. The ground beneath their feet also began to slope upward. Soon they were finding that they had to walk with the aid of their hands. They came upon a deep pool. A waterfall tumbled down from the cliff above to plunge into the dark water. A fine mist swirled through the air. Gambit and Spat couldn't get wetter however; they were both rain-soaked, their hair falling in wet tendrils, their clothing damp and clinging. Beneath their feet they could feel the steady trembling of the earth. Rocks occasionally broke free from the cliff to clatter down the slopes and into the pool.

"We're going up there, are we?" Gambit said doubtfully.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Spat told him. "There's a little sandy pathway that switches back and forth between the rocks. It takes awhile, but it puts us out right behind the temple."

Gambit followed Spat as she squeezed past a boulder to the path she described. "What are you going to do when you get back?" Spat asked him.

"Hopefully dry off," Gambit responded. "Then maybe watch some television, have a drink, and take a nap."

"I meant in the long-run," Spat said. "And I can't believe you'd actually want to watch TV after all this."

"Maybe I'll read a book. That ought t'take me about a year. But I'm also supposed t'go on a date."

"Good luck and godspeed," Spat said. "It's a jungle out there."

Something clattered down the cliff above. It bounced down from stone to stone and finally came to a rattling halt in the path several yards ahead. "What's that?" Gambit asked.

They approached the object. It was a red Solo cup.

"Uh, oh," Spat said. She picked up the cup and sniffed its interior. "This is bad."

"What's bad about it? Does it smell like _Coors_?"

"Worse," she said. "Cheap tequila. Bottom shelf for sure."

Gambit looked up at the cliff. "Are those meatheads up there?"

"Looks like. I'm actually surprised none of them have tried jumping off the cliff into the pool yet. That usually happens when you hear-."

"_WOOOOOOO_!" rang out and echoed along the cliff walls.

"Oh, here it comes," Spat said. They waited, but no one jumped.

Gambit and Spat looked at one another at a loss. "They must be doing keg stands or something," Spat guessed.

Then they heard: "_Mo-tor-boat! Mo-tor-boat! Mo-tor-boat!_"**

Spat gasped.

"What? What does that mean?" Gambit asked.

"It means they've spotted a woman with big boobs," Spat said and tossed aside the cup.

Gambit drew a quick panicked breath and then began to run up the path.

"Oh no!" he said, then cried out: "**ROOOGUE**!"

FADE OUT

*All examples cited are based on actual real-life events. The names and places have been changed to protect the innocent. Except you, Paul Skruggs. You ass.

** Also based on real-life events. And why I won't be going to any more of Tommy's parties.

***Hey, y'all! Thanks for the reviews! Chellerbelle, I'm ecstatic that your friend recommended this disaster to you...are you sure he or she is really your friend? LOL. JasmineBella, if you'd like to remember Spat, hearken back to the infamous Uncanny X-Men #350. She also appears in the first Gambit ongoing series, when he re-ages her to her current Barely Legal status. She's usually seen in the company of a dinosaur-thingy named Grovel.

Also, if it isn't completely obvious by now, the Captain is Murderworld's version of Magneto. Though if I have to explain that, I'm probably not doing my job very well.


	13. Candid Camera

ACT FIVE

Scene A

FADE IN:

EXT. RIVERSIDE PATH, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – NIGHT

At the first crack of thunder, Rogue's faithless steed (the giant chicken) took off with an alarmed squawk, leaving Rogue to fall onto the muddy path. She hit the ground on her tailbone, her limbs flying out in the most undignified way possible. For a moment she lay flat on the ground as the rain poured down from above. She felt a sharp throbbing pain in her backside. When she drew up her legs she felt a sudden sting of agony. She sat up and braced herself on her elbows. Rogue looked down at herself. There was a long red gash on her right calf. The bare steel of the blade had sliced her skin when she fell. Rogue cursed and slowly pulled her leg towards her. A steady rivulet of blood ran down her calf. She took the blade from her belt and set it aside. She untied her belt and began to wrap her leg with it. Inwardly, she cursed the giant chicken and hoped its future involved a king-sized cast iron skillet and a six-pound can of _Crisco®_.

From behind her, she could hear the obnoxious laughter of several intoxicated men. When they'd first spotted Rogue they'd called out, holding their cups aloft in welcome. She'd chosen to ignore them. At the rebuff, they'd voiced their disapproval. It was followed with catcalls and heckling. She'd given them an icy stare, but the alcohol had made them resistant to the usual female cues of relaying disinterest. Now they were following her in a way that had gone beyond obnoxiousness to something far more threatening. Rogue climbed to her feet and picked up her sword. She tried to walk as normally as possible, not wanting the men to know she was hurt.

"Hey, babe," called one of them now. "Wait up!"

"Where you goin', girl?" called another.

"Let me get you a drink!" said a third.

Rogue called over her shoulder: "Not interested."

"C'mon now, babe! Why you gotta be like that?"

"Come have a drink with us. Loosen up a bit!"

One of them suddenly moved forward to grab at her elbow. Rogue whirled on them with the blade. They hastily backed up a few paces, hands raised, Solo cups still held firm.

"Whoa now, girl!" said one of them, his smile mocking. "We're just trying to have a little fun."

"Ah tole you, Ah'm not interested," Rogue repeated holding the blade steady.

Two of the other men were elbowing one another and making rude gestures. Rogue's robe was soaked through and plastered to her chest. Now unbelted, it hung open to reveal her navel. With her free hand, she pulled it closed at the neck.

"Don't be such a frigid bitch," one of the men said and drained his cup. He tossed it over the edge of the cliff.

Rogue's eyes flashed in anger. One of the men shoved his foul-mouthed cohort. "Don't listen to that dumbass," said the man who clearly thought he was the more charming of the quintet. He raised an arm in an attempt to drape it over Rogue's shoulder. "Some guys just can't take 'no' for an answer. Where you heading? I could take you home."

Rogue stepped back from the man. "Thanks, but no. Ah'm fine." She winced as she stepped down on her injured leg.

"Girl all alone in the woods at night...?" the man continued, and glanced down at her injury. "That's dangerous."

Rogue waved her sword slowly back and forth. "Lucky for me, I got this here knife."

"You're gonna hurt yourself, babe," said one.

"Looks like she all ready did," said another.

"We'll take care of you."

"C'mon, have a drink."

The men were just out of range of Rogue's blade. She'd been backing up along the trail all the while, keeping them in sight. The path had come to an end at the head of a thunderous waterfall. Now Rogue stepped down onto a loose rock, sending herself stumbling. She put the blade tip down into the dirt to steady herself. One of the men darted forward, his hand reaching out to seize her upper arm. Rogue opened her mouth to shout out a threat when the man's head suddenly jerked back.

He stumbled backwards, his hands clutching his forehead. "Ow! Sonofabi-!"

"Evenin' gennlemen," said a voice from behind Rogue. She turned sharply with a gasp.

There was a flash of lightening and crack of thunder. Gambit stood on the broken rocks at the top of the waterfall. He was framed in a faint glow of charged energy that had the fine mist that hung in the air shimmering pink and red. His pose was carefully relaxed as if he hadn't a care in the world. He tossed a rock into the air and then caught it again. "Looks like we're havin' us a real frog strangler, _enh_?"

"What'd he say?" asked one of the men.

"I don't think that was even english," answered another.

"He said: It's _rainin'_," Rogue answered and pulled her sword free of the ground.

Gambit tossed the stone from hand to hand. "You okay, _chere_?"

"Been better," Rogue said.

"Back off, man," called one of the meatheads.

"We saw her first."

"Lady tole you she wadn't interested," Gambit said and caught the rock.

The man who had been struck with the stone righted himself. "You're dead, brah!"

"Ya'll need to go sleep it off," Rogue told them. "You're makin' asses of yourselves."

"Go back t'your kegger," Gambit said. "We'll leave copacetic-like."

"You can go as soon as we finish kicking your ass!" the man said. The other four drained their cups and tossed them to the path.

"Finish?" Gambit said and charged the rock. "You ain't even gonna get a chance t'start." Gambit whipped the rock at the five men and they stumbled back from Rogue as the rock exploded onto the path.

Not to be daunted, the man opened his mouth to spout what he probably felt was a clever rejoinder when he was caught in the back of the knees with a broken tree branch. When he dropped to his knees with a cry, Rogue and Gambit spied Spat standing behind the fallen man. She carried a weather-worn branch in her hands which she raised and brought down on the man's back. He fell onto his face. Another man moved to grab at her and she shoved the butt of the club into his gut. He folded over himself with a exhaled gasp. Spat swung upwards, catching the man on the chin as he fell forward. He sprawled over backwards into the path. The next man was cracked in the side of the head with a widely thrown swing. The remaining two found themselves trapped between the sword-bearing Rogue, Gambit, who was glowing in a vaguely threatening way, and a club-wielding Spat. They wised up and fled into the forest. Spat sent the club spinning after them. It struck them both in the small of the back and they fell into the underbrush. The remaining meatheads crawled away into the forest with half-moaned curses.

Spat raised one arm and the opposite leg in a cheerleader-style pose. "Don't mess with Texas!" she cried.

"This is a surprise," Rogue said, staring at the petite blond bombshell.

"I'm the special guest star," Spat told her, and cocked a hip.

"What Ah meant was that Ah didn't know you were a southern gal," Rogue said.

"By way of Austin," Spat replied and held up her fist, pinky and forefinger raised. "Hook 'em horns!"

"It also 'splains why she so weird," Gambit added.

Rogue dropped her sword. "You're a sight for sore eyes," she said to Gambit. He carefully stepped from stone to stone until he reached the path.

"Did they hurt you?" Gambit asked, looking at her leg.

"Ah hurt mahself on accident."

Gambit moved towards Rogue and pulled the leather band from his arm. He took one of Rogue's arms to loop it over his shoulder, taking the weight off her injured leg. "Ready t'go, _chere_?" he asked.

"Sure, but how?" Rogue asked.

Gambit extended the leather band to Spat. "Here," he said as she took it. "There's some kinda trans-."

He was suddenly cut off by a thunderous explosion. The driving rain and dark clouds were lit up in red and gold as the volcano erupted. Over the trees they could see the spray of molten rock fire into the sky. The ground jerked and there was crack of breaking rock. The path abruptly tilted to the side. Spat leapt towards the forest, seizing the now exposed roots of a tree as the ground tore free from the cliff. Gambit and Rogue fell backwards towards the edge and the waterfall. Now falling, Gambit pushed away from the crumbling stones, dirt, and debris. Rogue cried out, still holding fast to Gambit's shoulders. They tumbled through the air, getting caught in the spray from the waterfall. The water bore down on them as they plunged into the deep pool several hundred feet below. Rocks struck the water's surface, sending up large splashes of water. Caught in the torrent of water and falling debris, the pair were pushed far below the surface, deeper and deeper into the dark cold pool.

ACT FIVE

Scene B

FADE IN:

INT. SPIRAL'S BATH & BODY WORKS SHOPPE, THE WILDWAYS – DAY

There was a clap of displaced air and the trio of X-Men found themselves crammed into the narrow space of the storage closet. Wolverine jarred the shelves full of lotions and body sprays. He sent them clattering to the floor where a bottle of Jasmine Breeze smashed open, spraying his boots with lavender-colored cream. Frenzy knocked into the shelf of heads, sending them toppling in domino-fashion. The heads shrieked, squawked, screamed, and cursed at her as she frantically tried to set them upright again. Shadowcat stumbled backwards, slipping on the lotion spilled across the floor. Limbs pinwheeling, she toppled through the curtain, yanking the curtain from its rings as she fell out the door.

Wolverine tripped over Shadowcat as he fled the storage closet, the perfumes overwhelming his olfactory senses. He wheezed and sneezed and choked. Frenzy too came hurtling out of the closet, the insane head gripping her sleeve between its teeth and snarling.

"Get it off! Get it off!" Frenzy cried flapping her arm up and down.

Shadowcat extracted herself from the curtain and clambered up to her hands and knees. She was just beginning to climb to her feet when Wolverine explosively sneezed into her face, sending her hair flying back from her head.

"Augh!" she cried, wiping her eyes. "Groooooss!"

Frenzy had grabbed hold of the head's over-processed hair and yanked the thing from her sleeve. She flung it aside and it rolled across the floor towards the bank of monitors.

For a moment, the three X-Men stood in the Shoppe, breathing hard, looking at one another, then the surrounding shop. Spiral was no where to be seen.

"Worst entrance **ever**," Shadowcat said.

Wolverine rubbed his nose on the back of his arm. "Where's Spiral?" he asked.

Frenzy walked to the monitors and kicked the head under the console where it span about and shrieked. Many of the monitors were black. Several monitors had colored bars on the screen, others showed a black and white snowstorm of static, and yet others had a cartoon image of Mojo sitting in a pile of tangled wires and shrugging helplessly while dull test pattern tone sounded.

"Something's gone wrong," Frenzy said, looking from one monitor to the next. A few shows were still playing; transmissions from Earth. _Downton Abbey_ was on one of the monitors, the other showed coverage from the San Diego ComicCon.

On Spiral's chair was a placard that read: _Experiencing technical difficulties. We'll be right back! Don't touch that dial!_

Shadowcat flicked aside the placard and sat in the director's chair. "Here's _Paradise Lust_," she said and pointed to the monitor. The signal was sporadic; the show was interrupted by bursts of static. On the screen they could just make out the image of an erupting volcano. "I hope we're not too late."

Shadowcat and Wolverine were each wearing the transport harnesses that Beast had developed. They each also carried a spare harness which they'd looped over their shoulders. Frenzy was strapped into the repaired prototype and also carried a third harness. It was all that Beast had been able to manage in the short amount of time allotted to them. Iceman and Warbird had reported that the situation on _Paradise Lust _had gotten serious, with Gambit and his friend Spat only just escaping from the Captain and the enormous bird (the enormous bird having apparently finished eating Cecelia, who was no where to be seen).

"How do we get down there?" Wolverine asked, pointing to the monitor.

"Set C," Frenzy said. "We have to use Spiral's work tables."

Shadowcat looked to where Frenzy had pointed out the control box. "There's only two, and someone will have to stay to operate them."

Frenzy and Wolverine looked at one another. "We'll go," Wolverine told Shadowcat. He held out his hand for the spare harness. He tapped the headset in his ear. "You stay here and see if you can't get the transmission on that feed fixed. We need to be kept up on what's going on down there."

Shadowcat nodded and handed him the harness. Both Wolverine and Frenzy climbed onto the twin tables. Shadowcat opened the control box door. She turned a few dials and depressed the button to transport them to Set C. "I'm going to put you both down near the Harpies' Camp," she said over her shoulder. "Are you ready?" She put her hands to either of the two switches.

"Showtime," Frenzy said.

Shadowcat threw the pair of handles down and both Wolverine and Frenzy vanished in a flash of light. She dashed back to the monitors and studied the console.

"Ooo," said the head under the console. "Pretty shoes."

"Thanks," Shadowcat said distractedly as she adjusted dials and flipped switches. The _Paradise Lust _image continued to waver in and out, broken by punctuations of static. On the other working monitor, Mr. Bates was marrying Anna.

"_Ohh_...," Shadowcat said.

The other monitor displayed a sudden melee that had broken out at the ComicCon.

"Stupid fanboy losers!" Mojo was saying. "A twenty-issue crossover is sheer epic brilliance! You don't know _anything _about good storytelling!" Several angry fans were storming the stage where Mojo was sitting at a panel discussion. Strangely enough, a few of the fans seemed to be carrying dismembered arms which they brandished as weapons.

"Kitty?" Wolverine was saying through Shadowcat's headset.

"I'm here, Logan. Are you guys okay?"

"We're at the camp," Wolverine responded. "You get anything on those monitors yet?"

"No...wait! I think the static is clearing up," Shadowcat said and peered at the _Paradise Lust_ monitor. "Oh, no. I guess not. It's all completely black."

Kitty continued: "Either the transmission was cut, or Rogue and Gambit are in someplace really, really dark."

FADE OUT

ACT FIVE

Scene C

FADE IN:

INT. DARK CAVE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

Rogue dragged herself from the water onto the sandy shore beneath the waterfall. Her injured leg screamed in pain as she braced it against the ground. Behind her, she dragged the dead weight of Gambit's body. She heaved him up onto the shore. With his legs still in the water, she pushed him onto his back. She crouched beside him and lightly tapped his face.

"Remy," she hissed. He remained unresponsive. She placed her ear close to his nose and mouth. Hearing nothing, she said: "Dammit."

She pressed his nose closed with the fingers of one hand and pressed her mouth over his. Rogue breathed twice into his open mouth, making his chest rise. Gambit suddenly spasmed and Rogue pushed him to his side as water spewed from his mouth and nose. He choked and coughed for several moments. Rogue held him by his shoulder until he collapsed onto his back.

"Ow," he said dully.

"You'll be all right," she told him and pressed his wet hair back from his face.

"Thanks for de save, _chere_," he said.

From above came another crack as yet more rock dropped from above. Rogue crawled backwards up the gentle slope and deeper into the cave. Gambit scrambled after her. The rocks splashed into the pool, sending waves rushing up the shore. The water continued to tumble down upon the broken rocks. The ground shook and sand and stone pelted Gambit and Rogue where they huddled, their arms over their heads for protection. There was a thunderous crash as one side of the cave wall splintered to fall against the other. The earthquake paused in its ferocity. For a moment, there was nothing but the crumbling of rock and the rush of the waterfall, now muffled by a wall of stone.

"Rogue?" Gambit asked in the complete darkness.

"Ah'm okay," she said from the shelter of his arms. Together they breathed in and out. Rogue adjusted herself slightly, shifting her hip away from Gambit's. "That your bo staff in your pocket...or are y'happy to see me?"

Gambit cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said. "It's not-I can't...I got drugged."

"Oh," Rogue said. "Uhm. Me too."

"Normally I'd take a cold shower, but I can't possibly get any wetter," Gambit said.

"Me neither," Rogue said.

Gambit coughed again.

They could hear the sounds of water splashing through the rocks. Though they had pulled themselves up onto the shore, the water was now lapping at their feet.

"Ah think the water's risin'," Rogue said.

"C'mon," Gambit said and took her hand in the darkness. He led her deeper into the cave.

"Can you see?" she asked, her free hand outstretched.

"Some," Gambit replied. He felt her hand touch the small of his back.

Another earth tremor sent them to their knees in the sand. "We have t'stop this," Rogue said, her hand moving up Gambit's back to his shoulder, finding his neck then the side of his face.

"What d'you think we-," Gambit began. Rogue's fingers found his lips.

Rogue replaced her fingers with her mouth, pressing her lips firmly to his. She felt the inhalation of his breath against her cheek. She wrapped her arms around his neck. There was another low rumble from the ground beneath them and Gambit fell forward, bracing himself on his arms with Rogue beneath him. She tangled her fingers into the wet locks of hair at the back of his neck and deepened the kiss. His hand stole across her bare stomach, then slid up her midriff. Her lips parted and she traced his lower lip with her tongue. The earth ceased its shaking. Rogue drew back, her head pillowed on Gambit's forearm.

For a moment they listened to the sound of water. Then: "What was that about?" Gambit asked.

Rogue drew a shaky breath and then swallowed. "There's this island goddess," she began, somewhat embarrassed. "That Ah'm supposed t'represent. And this whole eruptin' volcano is like one big euphemism fer...anyway. If Ah'm...satisfied...then the whole thing'll stop."

She could see Gambit's glowing red eyes looking down at her in the darkness. He blinked. "What de hell kinda sicko came up wit' dis crap?" he asked.

"Ah think if we're together, then the series will end."

"We're t'gether now," Gambit said, somewhat daftly.

"Ah think what the viewin' audience wants...is for us to hook up," Rogue replied.

Gambit's eyes momentarily widened. "What? Like, right now? Here? On camera?"

Rogue shrugged her shoulders. "These producers and writers and whatnot seem t'think physical intimacy equates to a real relationship rather than one based on friendship, mutual respect, commonalities, or shared interests. So, yeah. Hookin' up should be good enough for the viewers."

Gambit said: "That's ridiculous."

"If we take away the whole "will they or won't they" thing, they'll lose interest. No one wants t'hear a story about two people livin' happily ever after-even if they say they do. The show will be over."

"You want to-you really want t'do this now?"

"At least it's dark, so it's somewhat private. And...we've been t'gether before. It won't be a big deal," she added, trying to keep her voice light.

She felt Gambit draw back a bit. "Not a big deal?" he repeated. "Since when was dat ever true for you?"

Rogue gnawed her lip. "Ah don't-Ah mean, Ah've...alot's changed with me over the past few months. Ah've learned-."

Gambit sat up, breaking off contact. "I don't want t'know what you've learned," he said testily.

"Ah was just sayin', Ah've learned things about mahself-."

"So glad you took de time t'come t'terms wit' your physical issues. Wit' someone else. I'm real happy for you."

"Gambit, don't get all passive-aggressive on me," Rogue said, sitting up. "Ah'm tryin' t'talk to you like an adult."

"Make sure y'use small words, seein' as how you think I'm so _childish_."

"Now what are y'gonna do, Remy? Seein' as how we're trapped in this here cave, you can't go run and hide from your problems," Rogue snapped.

"You're de one who goes runnin' off de second you hear somethin' you don't like, or t'ings get too complicated," Gambit retorted. "Seems all I see of you is de backside."

"Ah guess we _do_ have that thing in common," Rogue replied irritably.

Gambit's voice was falsely bright: "No worries, Rogue. We've done it in a cave before. Let's just get on wit' de show!"

There was a sharp crack as the flat of her hand connected with the side of his face.

"Ow!" he said and then stood.

"Where are you goin'?" she asked.

Gambit splashed away in the darkness. "I'm goin' t'wait t'drown," he said. "Maybe I'll get a second chance t'go t'heaven."

Rogue put her feet beneath her and stood shakily on her good leg. Since she could no longer see his eyes, she knew he was facing away from her. "Oh, Ah see. You'd rather die than be with me. How melodramatic."

"You-are-_killing_-me!" he said from the recesses of the cave. "Shouldn't come as a surprise that I mean nothin' to you."

"Ah never said that."

"You said I'm no big deal."

"That's not what Ah said at all!"

"All that time we were t'gether and it seemed t'me like it _was_ a big deal. Or maybe it was an _excuse_. Because one second you're holdin' me at arms length sayin' you need space and de next you're in bed wit' someone else."

"And how many women have _you_ been with?" Rogue contended. "How it is okay for you t'go t'bed with someone but me not to?"

"I'm not numb from de waist down. And there's only so much rejection a man can take before he goes lookin' elsewhere."

"_You_ asked _me_ for a commitment and then you go and tell me that."

"I had t'beg, borrow, and steal what I could get from you, seein' as how you never trusted me enough to _give _me anything. You never wanted t'meet me halfway. It was always all or nothin' with you."

"We've moved past the time where lack of trust was what stood between us. Ah know when the chips are down, Ah can count on you. Every other time you're all over the map, Remy. You're bouncin' off the walls, makin' trouble where there's no trouble t'be had. You gotta know you got an effect on people. You either rile them up or...or you're...well-you really bring out the crazy in a gal and that's just what Ah don't need right now!"

"Crazy? You don't know from crazy. Can't say how many crazy, harebrained things I got into out of love for you," Gambit told her.

"That's just mah point, Remy! It ain't healthy!"

Gambit sighed. "That's fine, Rogue. I'm glad you found someone you could share yourself wit'...feel not crazy wit'. I thought we had deeper connection that went just beyond havin' a physical relationship, anyhow. But that coulda been wishful thinkin' on my part."

When Rogue spoke her voice was tight. "Is that what you _really_ think?"

"Sometimes I think I must've imagined anything that was good about us," Gambit replied, his voice resigned.

"It wasn't your imagination," Rogue said quietly. "Ah'm sorry you feel that way."

"I don't want you t'feel sorry for me," Gambit said. "Let's just go back to how we've been these last few months...with you not talkin' t'me and pretendin' I don't exist. Seems I'm sufferin' from a severe case of diarrhea of de mouth. I'll keep it shut now."

"Remy...Ah'm not blind, and Ah have learned a few things. About me...about relationships. Ah know it takes two people to mess up a relationship. We've both made mistakes. And Ah don't feel sorry for you. Ah _am_ sorry," Rogue responded. "Ah know you. Ah see the way you act with your fake smile and your goofiness. Ah know you're hurt...Ah thought if Ah just kept mah distance, you'd have time t'heal. And then Ah wouldn't have t'see how bad Ah hurt you."

Gambit was silent for a moment. "Are you cryin'?" he asked finally.

"No...," Rogue sniffled.

"Why is it that I'm de one who always leaves you in tears?" he asked. She heard him wade through the deepening water towards her.

Rogue wiped her face with her hands. "You're the only one who makes me feel this way," she responded. Gambit was standing just a few inches away from her now, but not touching.

"Feel bad, you mean?" he asked.

"No...too much."

His fingers touched her shoulder. "Sorry, _chere_. I hate arguin'. I've avoided sayin' how I feel 'cause I always end up sayin' things I regret. Better t'just talk trash and say nothin' at all."

"Ah think this is good. Better to have it out."

"Who knew bein' kidnapped and trapped in a cave would work better'n couple's therapy?"

"We shoulda thought of this before gettin' advice from Emma Frost."

"Makes plenty more sense, really."

"We should find a way to get out of here before we really do drown."

By now the water had climbed to their hips.

"I can see de sense in that. Here, take my hand," Gambit said. "Maybe if you borrow a share of my powers we can bot' see enough to blow ourselves outta here wit'out bringing de whole cave down on our heads."

Gambit's eyes flashed and a faint reddish glow chased away the blackness. Though harsh shadows framed his face, Rogue could see Gambit's smile was fixed firmly back in place. She grimly returned it and reached out her hand to take his. That was when another tremor rattled them off balance. Gambit widened his stance, sloshing against the rising water. Rogue began to tumble forward and caught herself on her injured leg. She yelped in pain and her knee folded beneath her to smash into a submerged stone. The pain had her tasting bile in her mouth. She sucked in a breath and tears stung her eyes.

Gambit lurched forward and gripped her shoulders before she completely sank beneath the water.

"Rogue!" he cried. Though the reddish glow had faded, Rogue realized she could see him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Mah leg," she hissed. "Ah think Ah fractured somethin'."

Gambit crouched and lifted her out of the water and into his arms. He turned her toward the wall of stone. High at the apex of the cave there was light. The rocks had shifted in the earthquake, revealing a swatch of blueish-white light; dawn shining through the veil of the waterfall. With Rogue in his arms, Gambit began towards the broken stones.

"Remy," she said. "Just set me down. Y'can't climb outta here with me."

"Don't you worry," he told her. "Everything'll be okay." He began picking his way up the rocks. The tremors were increasing in length in severity. "Any time now..." Gambit said hopefully. "Gotta be time for a commercial break."

"A commercial break?" Rogue asked. "What'll happen then?"

"Spiral will come get you. Patch you up."

"Really?" Rogue asked.

Gambit braced himself as the ground shook. The rock beneath their feet shifted and Gambit contorted himself to fall onto his hip, sparing Rogue from further injury.

"Remy, just...go! You gotta let go of me. Go get help!"

"Spiral!" Remy called out to the air. "Where **are** you?"

"Maybe she likes you more than she likes me," Rogue told him.

Above the fissure in the rock widened as more stones tumbled away. The roar of the waterfall was clearly audible now. The white water was bright in the revealed opening. Swirling mist caught the early sunlight. Gambit and Rogue held up their hands to keep the light from dazzling their eyes.

Rogue blinked the mist and spots from her eyes and lowered her hand. Gambit still had his eyes squeezed tight, his face turned away.

"Remy," Rogue began. "Ah got good news...and bad news."

"What's dat, _chere_?"

"The good news is...we're about t'get out of here."

Gambit squinted at her. "What's de bad news?"

Rogue pointed up at the figure silhouetted in the light. "That guy. That guy's bad news."

* * *

_Author's notes: Only four more chapters left in this sordid tale! I finished it on Sunday, and I hope you'll be pleased with the extra-stupid ending I came up with. I challenge you to find anything more ridiculous. Oh, but if you do, remember to submit your recommendations for Gambit-fics to me so we can add them to the growing Gambit Guild LeBeau Library...now over 100 stories strong! Please follow us! _

_And...only seven...yes, seven more days until Gambit's new ongoing series. Can I hear your 'squeeeee's from here?  
_


	14. Double Billing

ACT FIVE

Scene D

FADE IN:

EXT. HARPIES' CAMP, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

Wolverine and Frenzy were hidden in the jungle growth just on the outskirts of the Harpies' camp. The camp had suffered some significant damage overnight; several tents had been burned, debris was scattered around the grounds, belongings were strewn about, furniture was broken, and Frenzy was pretty sure she was standing close to someone's cheap-beer-induced vomit. Wolverine was _very_ sure. From this distance they could spy the residents putting the camp back together. There were several people raking up litter and a group of both men and women was erecting a fallen tent. There was much wood-sawing and hammering as tent-poles were reconstructed; sewing and patching as tent-panels were repaired. The two spies watched as a clutch of giant chickens was herded into the central bazaar area and corralled. The birds _warked_ to themselves and scratched about in the dirt.

There was a big white tent that seemed to have suffered some scorching. A line of people was standing at the tent entrance, waiting to be let in. The line was slowly dwindling as people were permitted entry.

"No sign of Gambit," Wolverine said. "Kitty...can you tell us anything?"

Through the com-link in Wolverine's ear Shadowcat said: "Still getting a lot of interference. According to this grid, it looks as though Murderworld is suffering some kind of power outage. Rolling blackouts."

"Everything here is powered by ratings," Wolverine said. "People must have quit watching."

"Frankly, I don't blame them," Frenzy said. "This crap is god-awful."

"What do we know about these Harpies?" Wolverine asked.

"For the most part they are a bunch of nympho-_Jell-O_-wrestling-coeds," Frenzy said. "There are about twenty of them and they are skilled at trapping and carry spears. There are maybe a half-dozen men. The men are armed with golf clubs and baseball bats. Be sure to stay off their lawns."

Wolverine regarded her a moment. "You lost me after: _nympho _and _Jell-O_," he told her.

"You're supposed to be the commanding officer," Frenzy told him. "I am providing you with a detailed account so you can plan accordingly."

"Tell me more about the wrestling."

"They like red _Jell-O____,_" Frenzy answered dryly.

"They seem friendly. Let's just go in," Wolverine said as if this was reasonable.

"Your plan is crap. Even I can see that. You want to end up skewered and bludgeoned?"

"They have weapons?" Wolverine asked.

"Augh!" Frenzy cried, putting her hands to her head.

"Are you all right?" asked a voice from behind them.

They turned to see a young woman in a fur bikini and bird headdress. Her glossy black hair was plaited and hung over her bare shoulder.

"I...uhm," Frenzy said.

"I heard a scream. Are you injured?" the woman asked. "Because if you're injured, you can go to the big white tent."

Wolverine stood from where he had been crouching in the bushes. "Well, hey there darlin'," he said as he gave the woman a once-over.

The woman's mouth turned down and she ever so slightly lowered her spear. "Is this your captive?" the woman asked Frenzy dubiously.

Frenzy looked from the point of the Harpy's spear to Wolverine. "Yes," she said and seized his arm. "He's...I caught him."

"Well, you'd better keep a tight leash on him," said the Harpy. "He looks to be a little on the wild side."

"You don't know the half of it," Wolverine told her suggestively.

Frenzy smacked Wolverine on the back of the head.

"It's good to show them you're the dominant from the get-go," the Harpy told Frenzy with camaraderie as she began towards the camp. Frenzy fell into step beside her. "But we really try to advocate positive reenforcement. You know...a treat here, a little pat there. The occasional rub-down. To reward good behavior."

Wolverine had fallen behind the two women. "_I've_ been good. I'm the best, in fact. The best at what I do."

Frenzy shot him a look.

"Looks like you just took him in. You're going to want to take him to get his shots," the Harpy said to Frenzy.

"What's this now?" Wolverine asked.

"Oh, so _now _you're paying attention," Frenzy snapped.

"There's a little bit of a wait," the Harpy said and pointed to the white tent. "I have to go. The muffins will be done shortly."

"Muffins?" Frenzy asked.

The woman smiled. "Lemon-poppyseed and blueberry crumb." She sauntered off.

Frenzy and Wolverine looked at one another for a moment. Wolverine began after the woman when Frenzy clamped her hand down on his arm again. The pair found themselves at the end of a short line of people queued up outside the tent entrance. One young woman was emerging, her arm in a sling. The next woman stepped into the tent; she appeared to have burned her hand. In front of them was a young man wearing sunglasses, his ball cap set askew on his head. He scratched himself absently.

He turned to look at Frenzy, or rather, look at her bust as it was at his eye-level. "_Mo-tor_-I mean: 'sup," he said to her breasts.

"What're we doin' here?" Wolverine asked.

"Waiting in line," Frenzy told him, her voice dripping with irritation. She looked at the man in front of them. "What are _you_ doing?" she asked.

"Waitin' t'see the doc," the dude said.

"The doc?" Frenzy repeated.

"Witch doctor," the dude said and pointed at the tent flap, then pointed both fingers at his crotch. "Gotta check out what the sitch' is goin' on downstairs."

"T.M.I.," Frenzy told him.

"'Sup," the man said and nodded once in Wolverine's direction. This '_sup_ had a little more aggressiveness to it.

The two men sized each other up until Frenzy stepped between them. If they'd had hackles (and Wolverine kinda did), they'd be raised.

"Next!" called a voice from inside the tent. The dude turned and walked into the tent.

Frenzy and Wolverine shuffled forward to stand in front of the tent. There was a man raking beer cans from his lawn nearby. He spotted Frenzy and Wolverine looking at him and nodded.

"Mornin'," he said and waved good-naturedly.

The black-haired woman walked out of a tent with a plate. "Muffin for my muffin?" she asked and proffered the plate.

"Thanks, hon," he said, and took a muffin from the top of the pile.

The woman turned and very-neighborly asked: "Would you like a muffin?"

Frenzy and Wolverine looked at one another, perplexed. Somewhere behind them, someone was starting a lawnmower. Hedge clippers were brought to fore...then the edger and the water hoses and the fertilizer and the mulch. Suddenly, it was war...via suburban lawncare maintenance. The man with the muffin regarded his neighbor's lawn disdainfully.

"He ought to spray for grubs," the man observed to his wife.

"This place is freaking me out," Frenzy said.

Inside the tent they heard the dude say: "What'dya think about this, doc?"

There was a very pregnant pause and then: "You need to start a course of antibiotics _immediately_. Let me write you a prescription."

"Was that-?" Wolverine asked Frenzy.

Frenzy bolted to the tent flap and yanked it open. Inside, the dude was dropping his loincloth. The doctor looked up from where she was scribbling on a bit of parchment with an cartoonishly-enormous quill pen.

"Cecelia!" Frenzy said. "You're alive!"

Cecelia looked at Frenzy with irritation. "I'm with a patient," she said and handed the dude the parchment. She turned to him. "Take the _entire_ prescription. And for godsakes pick up some prophylactics."

"Thanks, doc!" the dude said and walked out, scratching all the while.

Cecelia pulled out a plastic bottle from her cleavage and dumped the contents into her palm. She rubbed her hands together and Wolverine sneezed as the scent of Tropical Heatwave hand sanitizer filled the tent.

"We saw you get eaten," Frenzy told Cecelia.

"It was a temporary situation," Cecelia informed her. "My shield protected me. And I ended up here. Which was a lucky thing. These people needed me."

Wolverine removed the spare harness from his shoulder. "Here," he said and handed it to her. "You need to get into this and get back before you're hurt."

Cecelia shook her head. "No," she said. "Not until we find Gambit."

"And Rogue," Frenzy added.

"Yeah, her too," Cecelia said and shrugged.

"This is no place for you!" Wolverine said. "If something happens to you, Hank'll have my hide!"

"I didn't come all this way just to get sent back!" Cecelia said.

"How did you get here anyway?" Frenzy asked.

Cecelia hesitated. "Well...I found this coin in Exodus' things..."

"And you didn't think to tell us?" Wolverine asked. "You coulda saved us a whole lotta trouble!"

Cecelia scuffed her tennis shoe on the carpet. "I guess I...I just reacted. I wasn't thinking."

"Where's your impulse-control?" Wolverine demanded. "I thought you had some common sense!"

Cecelia put her hands on her ample hips. "So something interesting happened to me! Let me have my moment!"

Wolverine shook his head. "This is-."

"Stupid?" Frenzy supplied.

"Ridiculous?" suggested Cecelia.

Wolverine swept out his arms, his hands cutting through the air. "All right, that's enough. Let's just go find Gambit and Rogue and get the hell outta here."

"Do you have any idea where they are?" Cecelia asked. "You've been watching the show, right?"

"That _someone_ is watching is probably the only thing keeping the signal alive," Shadowcat said through the headset.

Wolverine held his hand to his ear. "You got anything, Kitty?"

"The transmission is weak...but you guys are **not** going to believe this," Shadowcat said.

"What _is_ it, all ready?" Wolverine asked. "Don't leave us with a cliffhanger!"

"They're up at the temple!" Shadowcat exclaimed. "You **have **hurry! Rogue and Gambit are in big, big trouble! It looks like...it looks like they're going to get sacrificed!"

"What's the fastest way up to the temple?" Frenzy asked.

"There's a path-," Shadowcat began.

"I have a better way," Cecelia said. She pushed her way between Frenzy and Wolverine and started out the tent opening. Frenzy and Wolverine had no choice but to follow.

Cecelia was heading towards the area where the large chickens had been roped off.

"No way am I getting on one of those things," Frenzy snapped.

"We're not taking the Chocobos," Cecelia said. "They're just babies."

"Then what are you-," Wolverine began. A dark shadow passed overhead.

The trio looked upwards. In the sky, an enormous red and gold bird was circling lower and lower. It let out a mighty _WAURRK!_ and gracefully swept towards them. The bird flapped its wings to slow its glide then stretched out its powerful legs. It lightly set down before the clutch of comparatively tiny baby Chocobos. The chicks danced and called cheerfully to their parent as the large bird lowered its head lovingly towards its young and then regurgitated blue goo into a chick's open mouth.

"Ugh..." Frenzy said and held her arm over her face.

Cecelia was walking towards the giant bird.

"You want us to ride the bird," Wolverine said, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

"I call her Sparky," Cecelia said and patted the bird's beak. "We bonded. After she swallowed me. And then I came out. I think she thinks I'm one of her babies."

Frenzy looked at the giant golden bird, then at Cecelia. She shrugged. "Why not? It makes just about as much sense as anything that's happened so far."

FADE OUT

ACT FIVE

Scene E

FADE IN:

EXT. THE GODDESS' TEMPLE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

"Of all the times Ah've seen mah life flash before mah eyes, all the moments where Ah thought Ah was gonna die, it nevah once occurred t'me that mah life might end like this," Rogue was saying. "Burned alive while tied to a giant...a big-."

"You can say it, Rogue," Gambit prompted.

"Willy," Rogue said.

"Just say 'penis'."

"No!"

Gambit sighed deeply and the ropes binding them to the shaft of the giant herm tightened even further. They were bound with their backs pressed to the wooden post, facing away from one another. Below their feet was a giant pile of smoldering branches which were just beginning to crackle with flame.

"Well, Rogue," Gambit said, looking down at the brush pile. "On de bright side, we'll die of asphyxiation long b'fore we actually start t'burn."

"Way to spin it," Rogue replied dryly. "You shoulda gone into marketing."

"Save your breath for screaming," commanded a voice. "May your overly-dramatic dying moments be enough to satisfy the goddess Romy." Beyond the brush pile was the Captain. He was holding a torch in one hand and directing the soldiers with the other.

"You don't really want t'do this, _mon frere_," Remy said affably to the Captain. "Let's just put down de kindling and have ourselves a little talk, _enh_? Man to man?"

"You are hardly a man," the Captain responded. "You _failed_ in your manly duties. Instead you expend your time sharing your feelings and being sensitive without expecting to gain any sexual favor. You allow _this one_," at this time he pointed at Rogue with a sneer, "to emasculate you. You are completely _housebroken_!"

"I don't know about that," Gambit responded. "I've done a fair share of rootin' through de trash and humpin' some legs. I suppose your beef wit' me is that I'm not out t'be some alpha-male dick-head. I'll leave ya t'that. What I think _your_ **real** problem is that you feel threatened by an assertive woman. You're one of those types who like a gal to sit by de phone, bitin' her nails and hopin' you'll call. You like dem kind of power plays where you make de girl come t'you. Makes you look all macho and like you could care less if she's there or not. Like you got much more important things on your mind..."

"Now I know all about head-games and power plays, don't get me wrong. But de game was only as ever excitin' if de girl challenged me beyond my skill, who could meet me blow for blow, who was sharp as steel and could cut just as deep. I want a woman who'll best me at my own game, who's my equal, if not more so. Makes me wanna strive for more, y'know?"

"Remy," Rogue interrupted. "Ah don't know what you hope t'accomplish with all this flap-jaw."

"Just a sec, _chere_," Gambit continued. "I'm drawin' a conclusion here...Now look, _mon __capitaine_, I'd think a man wit' your...years of experience...would have well outgrown de time where he walked his ego down main street like some Macy's Day Parade balloon. Frankly, I get de impression that you're nothin' but a stereotype of chauvinistic masculinity, actin' out de dreams and desires of a bunch of fanboys and what they think a real man should look and act like. You may be _somebody's _dream come true, but to any woman-you're a **nightmare**!"

Rogue could clearly see that the Captain was completely unmoved by Gambit's impassioned speech. Instead of responding, the Captain lit the brush with his torch.

"Ah don't think you helped matters any, Remy," she said. "We coulda really used your gift of gab right about now. Instead of this talkative _turista_."

"Damn these drugs!" Gambit cried out. "When will they wear off!?"

Rogue choked as she drew in a lungful of smoke. Her eyes watered. Beyond the temple walls, she could see the volcano spewing molten rock into the sky. The air itself was full of ash and cinders and the scent of sulfur. Lava was rolling down the mountainside; a relentless slow-moving flood of impending doom.

"Remy," Rogue coughed. "Brace yourself."

"Please don't give me any more bad news, _chere_," Gambit choked.

"No, Ah mean, brace yourself with your feet. Then push."

"What?"

"Together," Rogue said. "We'll both push ourselves up the-the-."

"Phallus?"

"The **herm**," Rogue insisted.

"Gotcha," Gambit said and dug his heels into the wooden post. "I'm ready when you are."

"Push!" Rogue said, her bare feet shoving down. Her heel skidded on the blood seeping from her injury and she cried out in pain.

"Roguey?" Gambit said, his voice concerned.

"Push again!" she said. Together they shoved downwards and inched up the shaft of the herm.

"Your efforts are futile," the Captain told them. "But perhaps you wish to burn more slowly...?"

Gambit and Rogue crept upwards several more inches. They were covered in sweat and groaning with effort. Rogue slouched and hung bonelessly in the ropes. "Ah can't-," she gasped.

Gambit looked upwards. There were still several more yards worth of herm to climb and even if they made it to the top, he wasn't sure what the next course of action would be. At least they were somewhat out of the smoke now. The fire was a number of feet below them. The heat coming from below was intensifying, however.

"You could have spared us all," the Captain called up to them. "But since you wouldn't lie together, you can instead **die **together."

"Who wrote this crap?" Rogue asked the Captain.

"I write my own material!" the Captain shouted, red in the face.

"Anna," Gambit began. "Seein' as how we're doomed, I got t'tell you somethin'."

"Remy, don't-," Rogue looked around anxiously, searching for a solution. She saw the worshippers and the soldiers carrying kindling and heaping it onto the fire, which was now blazing. The volcano continued its emissions. There was no way to escape, no miraculous appearance of a guest character, and no sign of rescue.

"Please, Anna!" Gambit said. "I wanted t'say to you one last time that-I love you!"

"Oh, Remy...Ah...Ah love you, too!"

"It's impossible for me t'imagine a life without you, Anna," Gambit continued.

"Remy...You know-what we had, it's-," Rogue stuttered.

"Let me finish, Anna. I miss your company, I miss _you. _I know our romance is over. That's not what I'm askin' to have back. Alls I want is t'be your friend. Can y'at least give me that?"

Rogue's eyes burned with tears not caused by the rising plumes of smoke and ash from below. "Remy...Ah'd like to, but...it's so complicated."

"No it's not, I just changed my Facebook status."

"Ah'm serious, sugah. Ah—still have feelings for you. Confusing, Rated-M ones."

"Don't you trust me, _chere_?"

Rogue nodded her head against the hard wood, not trusting herself to speak. Instead she inched her arm backwards, her skin burned by the tight cords that bound them together. Her fingers reached out and she looped her ring and pinky finger with his. She felt his hand grip her own. They hung together with their backs against the post they were bound to, hand in hand.

"Ah do, sugah," she said finally, her voice raw from the smoke. Her skin prickled as the scorching heat rose from below. The pain and fear made her gasp. Tears made wet tracks down her soot-covered face.

Gambit coughed spasmodically. She could feel the ropes binding them to the herm contract as he choked. "Then trust me when I tell you I'm good at being just friends. You can depend on me!"

"All right, Remy. Ah will. We can...we can try!"

"Then...Rogue!" he gasped. "As your friend-I gotta tell you somethin' else!"

Rogue struggled for breath and gagged. "Wha-what is it!?" she asked.

"And I mean this is in a not-jealous-ex-boyfriend kinda way-!"

"What **is** it, Remy!?"

"Magneto is a jerk! You're too good for him!"

Rogue spluttered.

"Hey!" Gambit said.

"Remy, you've said **enough**, and then some!"

"No, wait...did ya notice? De volcano...?"

Rogue craned her neck to look at the volcano. Though still smoldering, it appeared to have ceased in its vigorous emissions. "It stopped!" Rogue cried.

Down below, the Captain was regarding the volcano with a perturbed look on his face.

"Hey, y'all!" Rogue shouted down to the men milling about below. "Volcano stopped eruptin'. Y'all can let us down now!"

The Captain ground his teeth and his eyes sparked with anger. "I think _not_!" he snapped. "There is no way I will allow this to end so anticlimactically!"

Gambit looked down at the Captain. "De secret to endin' things climactically is all in de settin' of de mood, _hommes_. That, and foreplay."

"I tire of your adolescent prattling!" the Captain shouted and reached for his belt. "I will end **you**, _permanently_!"

Gambit tried to turn his head to see what the Captain was doing. "What's he got?" Gambit asked as he spied the Captain retrieve something from a pouch.

"Looks like a bottle of some kinda somethin'," Rogue answered. Then she felt a growing sense of dread. She recognized the label on the bottle. "Wuh-oh..."

"What? What is it?" Gambit asked.

The bottle flew end over end to crash into the herm just over their heads. Arabian Sunrise bath oil splashed onto the trussed-up twosome from above.

"Ack!" Gambit said as he was doused in oil. "Did he just throw lube at us?!"

Rogue's hair began to deflate into oily ringlets. "No, it's oil! _Flammable_ oil!" Rogue cried.

Down below, the flames began to leap in a hungry, excited way. "Holy hell!" Gambit cried. "We're about t'go up like a BP drillin' rig!"

With renewed vigor the pair attempted to scramble up the herm. Aided by the oil, they managed to scoot a few inches upward, only to slide back down. The flames lurched up the base of the herm as rivulets of oil began to run down the shaft.

"My pants are on fire!" Gambit exclaimed.

Things certainly seemed to be pretty dire for the heroic duo indeed. Then a shadow fell over the pair and they saw that things could quite possibly get worse.

FADE TO BLACK

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_JasmineBella: Isn't it funny that in LWTD I gave Gambit a German Shepherd like what you have, and now Spat goes to your same school? I think we're on a similar wavelength. You don't have to beg for ROMY fluff...! No plans to write a Bobby story, but I have an outline for another story that is a pretty twisted romance. Not sure if I'll go through with it or not..._

_SlightlyJaded: Thanks for joining the fun! I work for a food company that makes one of the food brands I've mentioned, so in a way, they are paying me!_

_If you're just now joining us, reader, I'd like to point out that I wrote this story in its entirety long before X-Men: Legacy #271. I have now realized that I could never be the caliber of writer that is hired by Marvel...that only, if only I had made the inhabitants of Paradise Island alien-cat-people, then I too could be a professional comic writer. I'm just not as creative as Gage, so clearly I've missed an opportunity for true ridiculousness here! _

_Though seriously, Gage, if you're reading this...stop stealing my material._


	15. Blockbuster Hit

EXT. THE GODDESS' TEMPLE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

CUT TO:

Frenzy was the first to make the leap, flinging herself into the air, arms and legs outspread to maximize the amount of damage she was about to inflict on the outer wall of the temple. She crashed through the wooden gates, tearing them from their hinges as well as several blocks of golden stone. Frenzy's momentum carried her forward to land in the main thoroughfare; shattered wood and crumbling stone rained down around her. As far as dramatic entrances went, it was _way _better than falling out of a storage closet. As the dust settled and the screaming temple inhabitants fled, Frenzy surveyed the scene before her. The sight of a giant flaming dildo in the middle of the square phased her not in the slightest. Instead, she focused her attention on the pair of southerners who were about to become fried, extra-crispy.

Frenzy sank her fingers into a nearby fallen stone block and heaved it over her head. With a cry akin to that of a professional female tennis player smashing a tennis ball across the court (unnecessarily loud and aggressively sexual in a way), Frenzy sent the stone hurling towards the herm. The block tumbled through the air causing the temple inhabitants to run in fright. The stone flew over the head of the bronzed and blond-headed god known as the Captain and smashed into the base of the herm, causing it to tilt to a forty-five degree angle. Even from this distance, Frenzy could hear the frightened screams of Gambit and Rogue as they now hung canted over the unyielding stone courtyard. It was comparatively better than being hung over the leaping flames. Frenzy congratulated herself on both inciting terror in Gambit and Rogue as well as removing them from the immediate threat of being torched alive.

Cracking her knuckles, Frenzy looked for her sky-high teammates, then behind her for the backup forces. She saw the immense shadow of the mamma Chocobo fall over the courtyard as it passed overhead. The giant bird pivoted in the air and began to fly back for a second pass. The Captain turned to track the bird's trajectory. Two figures jumped from the bird's back as it let out a mighty _WAURRK!_ With reinforcements on the way, Frenzy felt free to begin punching her way through the loincloth-clad sword-swinging soldiers with malicious glee. Her primary target: Cap'n Ab-Crunch.

CUT TO:

Wolverine seized Cecelia by the back of her halter top and launched them both from Sparky's back. The pair plummeted through the air followed by the trail of Cecelia's scream of terror. Cece struck the ground first. Her shields prevented her from striking the pavement directly and left an oversized imprint of Cecelia's spread-eagled body in the ground; the mark having all the appearance of an obese snow-angel. Wolverine crashed into Cecelia's shield from behind with a smack, his face pressed comically against the invisible barrier for a moment before he slid to the side with a squeak of flesh on impregnable shield. He landed on he ground in a heap.

Cecelia climbed up to her hands and knees with a groan. "You...you-_idiota_!"

Wolverine got to his feet and dusted himself off. "What? Your shields protect you, right?"

"It still hurts, jackass!"

"Oh, sorry." Wolverine moved to help Cecelia to her feet.

Cecelia's eyes went wide. "Look out!" she screamed.

The steel blade swished downwards to cleave Wolverine's cranium in two...or it would have if the man hadn't had a skull of adamantium. The Captain withdrew his blade, which now had a big curved dent in it. The Captain stared at his damaged weapon as Wolverine slowly turned around to face him. A trickle of blood ran down Wolverine's forehead from the part in his hair.

"I have been watching your career with some interest," the Captain told Wolverine. "How do you manage to appear so redundantly in the same role in every story? Who is your agent?"

"I'm self-made man, Blondie," Wolverine replied and his claws sprang from the backs of his fists with a 'snikt!' "Cece, go rescue Gambit and Rogue! I'll take care of the Cap'n."

Cecelia cast about for a moment, unaccustomed to taking orders on the field of combat. "Wha—what?" she stammered. The idea of riding to anyone's rescue was starting to sink in as being completely ridiculous and out of character.

"You're supposed to be a hero in this story!" Wolverine snapped at her as the Captain swung his sword in a wide arc.

"Oh, right!" Cecelia reached down and grabbed her spear from the broken hole she'd created. She began to run towards the huge wooden-post-thingy-where Gambit and Rogue hung over the pavement.

Wolverine caught the Captain's blade in his crossed claws with a screech of metal on metal. The Captain bore his steely gaze into Wolverine's blue eyes for a moment before Wolverine said: "End scene, bub!" Wolverine slashed his arms outward, his adamantium claws neatly severing the sword into several fragments. The tip of the blade whisked through the air end over end to thunk into the herm just inches from Rogue's head.

"Ah think our rescuers might kill us yet," Rogue observed to Gambit, whose pants were smoldering. Luckily, he'd been drenched so many times he had yet to catch on fire.

Cecelia ran across the courtyard and right into the flames surrounding the herm. She climbed over the boulder and onto the wooden shaft. She failed to realize that the shaft had been well-lubricated and her sneakers squeaked across the wood. She landed spread-legged on the shaft with a grunt. There was a groan of bending wood and the herm tilted forward several inches. Gambit and Rogue both screamed again, realizing as they hung beneath the herm, they were very likely to be crushed against the pavement.

"All right...now Ah never imagined in all mah life Ah'd be crushed under a giant-!"

The herm creaked ominously again as Cecelia began to creep forward. "I'm coming! I'm coming!" she cried.

"Cecelia?" Gambit called. He was staring straight down at the ground, his shoulder pressed to Rogue's as they hung beneath the herm. "Cece...is that really you?"

"It is!" Cecelia said as she crawled herself up the shaft like an inchworm. "I'm here to rescue you!"

"Rescue **me**?" Gambit asked in disbelief. His face was a picture of shock and he appeared to be strangely touched. "_You're_ rescuing _me_? Wha-why, Cece! That's so-hardly no one's ever come to rescue me!"

"Hey!" Rogue said indignantly. "Ah might have rescued you once or twice."

"I wouldn't just abandon you!" Cecelia said as she made her way up the herm. She was now poised above them, her spear in hand.

Gambit tried to turn his head to see her, but all he could see was one of her white tennis shoes. "Cecelia...given all de things you know about me, about my less than admirable past, my dumb decisions, and my angst-ridden relationships...you still-you still like me?"

Cecelia raised her spear and began stabbing it downward at the bindings holding Gambit and Rogue to the herm. "I-," Cecelia paused here. "Yes, Remy. I-I might _like_ like you in fact."

Gambit was dumbfounded. "Rogue is right. I _do _make women insane!"

There was a sudden crack of wood and the herm dropped another foot. All three mutants screamed. Cecelia lurched forward, throwing her arms around the shaft to prevent herself from sliding off. Her spear tumbled to the ground below.

"Cece, get off!" Rogue shouted. "You're too heavy!"

"You shut up right now, Rogue!" Cece responded hotly. "As if you don't shove Moonpies in your face like they're going out of style!"

The ropes began to creak under the strain of holding Gambit and Rogue. The binding began to unravel where Cecelia had managed to cut through it with the spearpoint. The wooden shaft groaned ominously and suddenly, the cords snapped. Rogue and Gambit fell several feet to land gracelessly on their faces on the courtyard stones. They both moaned in pain.

The herm popped and creaked and suddenly began to fall; Cecelia riding it down like a drunk girl on a mechanical bull in a dive bar. Gambit and Rogue rolled to their backs in time to see the herm hurtling itself downward. They both shouted in alarm and managed to roll in opposite directions as the herm crashed to the pavement. Cecelia kept her seat and sat momentarily stunned atop the herm. The top lacing of her corset snapped and then she slid to the side to land on top of Rogue.

Rogue complained loudly and once again, Cecelia told her to shut up. Gambit climbed shakily to his feet, bracing himself on the fallen herm. He spied the two women trying to extricate themselves from their lubed-up predicament.

"Get off!" Rogue said. "Don't grab me there!"

"You're injured," Cecelia snapped back. "I'm _trying_ to help you!"

"Augh! We're all slippery!"

The two women looked up at Gambit from the tangle of oiled limbs and skimpy, torn clothing. Gambit opened his mouth. The stars and planets aligned, untold cosmic forces momentarily reversed directions, and God looked down upon creation and smiled; for the first time in history, Gambit was at a loss for words. He instantly fell unconscious as he lost all blood flow to his brain.

CUT TO:

The Captain dove forward with the broken fragment of his blade held firmly in his grip. He aimed his thrust for Wolverine's gut, intending to skewer him on the short stub of steel. Wolverine slipped to the side, the steel fragment just tearing the front of his uniform as the Captain lunged. Wolverine's hand grabbed the Captain's forearm and gave it a sharp twist. In sudden excruciating pain, the Captain lost grip on the hilt of his weapon and it clattered to the ground. Wolverine yanked the Captain's arm behind the man's back, holding him firmly in an armlock. Now behind the Captain, Wolverine growled incoherently into the Captain's ear.

"You star in your own series and that's the best line you can come up with?" the Captain snapped.

"_You_ didn't make the cut...but _I will_!" Wolverine pressed his fist (claws currently withdrawn) to the Captain's back.

"That's better!" the Captain said, and with his free hand yanked another weapon from his super-useful belt.

Wolverine opened his mouth to retort. But then the Captain slammed a bath bomb into Wolverine's face. It exploded in a lavender-scented puff of fizzy soap and powder. Wolverine lurched back, his eyes, nose, and mouth full of bath bomb. "Acck!" he cried, his hands frantically sweeping at his face.

The Captain dove to the pavement, recovering a fallen sword dropped by one of his more poorly-trained soldiers. He whirled, weapon in hand, to ready a strike to open the feral mutant's throat. From behind him came an enormous crash of shattering wood and a triumphant cry of unbridled glee.

"Hit the deck!" Frenzy cried and instinctively, Wolverine, Cecelia, and Rogue dove to the pavement (Gambit was still laying prone on the ground, a dazed expression on his face).

Frenzy swung the uprooted herm in a wide sweeping arc, catching the unsuspecting Captain in the side and sending him flying into the base of the pyramid.

"Ha _ha_!" Frenzy said gleefully, setting the herm upright and hugging it to her hip. "This-feels-_awesome_!"

Gambit sat up. "I know! Right?!"

"I'm totally keeping this thing!" Frenzy announced, looking up at the herm.

"No, you totally are **not**!" Shadowcat said through her headset. "Put it down, Joanna!"

Frenzy scowled and reluctantly dropped the herm. Scrubbing his forearm across his eyes, Wolverine approached Cecelia, Rogue, Gambit, and Frenzy where they stood beside the dwindling bonfire. "Let's get the hell outta here," he said and handed a harness to Cecelia. She slipped into it and tried to adjust the straps over her breasts.

Frenzy handed Gambit a harness and said: "Here, put this on."

Gambit reluctantly took the harness and replied: "I don't know about this...after de last time you had me in one of these. I was chaffed for days."

Rogue paused in putting on the harness Wolverine had handed her, her expression mortified.

"How does this thing work?" Cecelia asked, looking down at herself.

"Like this!" Frenzy announced and stabbed her forefinger into the red button on Cecelia's chest.

Cecelia had just enough time to say: "Hey!" before she vanished in a flash of light.

"Ha," Frenzy said. "Now if only I could get rid of the Frostitute so easily."

"That weren't very nice," Gambit told her.

"Whatevs," Frenzy said and pressed the button on her own chest. She was intending to make an equally dramatic exit, but the button failed to activate. "Hey!"

"I _told_ Hank it wouldn't work," Shadowcat announced through the com link.

"Not funny, Kitty!" Frenzy snapped.

Gambit held his harness towards Frenzy as he had yet to put it on. "Here, Jo. Take mine."

Frenzy stomped a foot, cracking tiles under her boot. "NO!" she shouted in Gambit's face. "I didn't come all this way-to save your scrawny Cajun ass-to just...to just _leave_ you here!"

"Joanna, relax. I've gotten outta worse situations than this. Take de harness. I'll be all right!" Gambit told her.

Frenzy seized the harness from his hand. "Stop being so **nice** to me!" she screamed. "Go back to being the selfish jerk you used to be!"

"I tried!" Gambit said helplessly, his arms held out to his sides. "Alls I can manage now is t'just be annoying!"

"It was so much easier to go on hating you! You make me so mad!" Frenzy continued, angrily shoving her arms into the harness. "You're so stupid, you stupid stupid-head!"

"Don't cry, Jo. It'll be okay," Gambit reasoned.

"I'm **not** crying!" Frenzy yelled and pressed the button. In an instant, she was gone.

Wolverine and Rogue were left to stare at Gambit. "We'll just pop back to the school," Wolverine said. "I'll send Hank with another harness. You'd better bet he'll make sure it works."

Gambit shrugged, unconcerned. "_C'est bon, mon ami_," he replied. "But forgive me if I don't hold my breath."

Wolverine fared him with a scowl and then he too vanished. Gambit turned to Rogue.

"Remy," she said and moved to unfasten her harness.

Gambit reached out and held her hands tightly, preventing her from unlocking the harness. "Don't Rogue. You're hurt, you need to go back. Trust me, everything'll be fine."

Rogue blinked up at him, tears on her lower lashes. "You wouldn't lie t'me, sugah," she said, "just t'make me feel better, would you?"

The corner of Gambit's mouth raised in a sly smile. "Nah," he lied. "But can I ask you one last thing before you go...?"

"Sure, Remy," she said, limping slightly closer to him.

"D'you think we can be the kind of friends who kiss?" he asked, looking down into her eyes.

She blinked at him. Hesitantly, she said: "All-all right. Ah guess that'd be okay. But-."

Gambit slipped his arm behind Rogue's shoulders, his other hand seizing her hip as he swept her backwards, his lips descending on Rogue's mouth with firm, possessive desire. Rogue clung to his shoulders with both hands, her toes of her uninjured leg curling as she moaned into his opening mouth. After several long impassioned moments, Gambit righted Rogue and set her unsteadily upright on her good leg. Her mouth hung open a bit, her eyes unfocused. Gambit chastely kissed the side of her face.

"I'm sorry, you were sayin' something?" he asked.

"Ah-Ah was gonna say, we could kiss...but no tongue. But Ah guess it's a little late for that."

"Bye, Rogue. See you soon!" Gambit said and pressed the button on her chest. She vanished, but Gambit still had a lingering hope that she'd be back in his life again someday. "I _am_ a stupid, stupid-head," he told himself.

"I find we are in agreement," the Captain said and Gambit slowly turned.

The Captain stood behind him, sword in hand, glowering at Gambit in upstaged fury. Gambit raised his arms slowly in surrender.

"Would it be too much to ask we forgive and forget?" Gambit asked. "I mean, I'll just forget you tried to murder me in de most ridiculous way possible for no good reason and we can each go on our merry way?"

The Captain lowered his sword to point the tip directly at Gambit's chest.

"Lissen, _hommes_, you gotta learn t'just let things _go_!" Gambit said, then stepped firmly down upon the spear Cecelia had left behind. The spear rebounded against the stone ground and Gambit caught it on top of his foot then drew his knee up to launch the spear into the air. His hand moving faster than a viper-strike, Gambit snagged the spear from the air and pointed it at the Captain. "Now don't go forcin' my hand. I don't wanna have t'poke you full 'a holes."

The Captain lazily swung his sword and severed the tip of the spear from the shaft.

"Hey," Gambit said, looking closely at the blunted end of his spear. "That was de most sensitive part..."

"Prepare to be _cancelled_!" the Captain said. "Back to the casting call with the rest of the faceless **extras,** you talentless hack!"

Gambit whirled his staff and sank back into a defensive crouch. "No matter, I can work wit' dis." The Captain raised his weapon and moved to take the offensive and Gambit grinned. "I'm ready for my closeup, _mon capitaine_."

FADE TO BLACK


	16. Dramatic Conclusion

ACT FIVE

Scene F

FADE IN:

EXT. THE GODDESS' TEMPLE, PARADISE ISLAND, MURDERWORLD – DAY

Gambit threw himself backwards, the blade slicing through the air where his throat had been a split-second beforehand. Gambit continued to give up ground, falling back as the Captain swung his blade in an arc over his own head only to bring it down in a diagonal slicing motion. Gambit twisted to the side as the blade swished past, then jerked his hips back to avoid a swipe that would have gutted him. Gambit twisted like a charmed cobra, first to the left to avoid a down-strike, then to the right to miss the up-stroke. He neatly spun away from the arc of the blade, a laugh bubbling up from his throat as he backflipped over a low-slung swing. Gambit neatly landed on his feet, the former-spear tuned bo-staff held out in both hands before him.

"Fight like a man, you coward!" the Captain snarled, brandishing the weapon in both hands.

"Y'tired of slow-dancin' wit' me?" Gambit asked. "Let's shake a leg to a livelier tune."

Gambit dodged forward under the Captain's sword arm, the man acting seconds too late to avoid the slap of Gambit's staff across the back of his thighs. The Captain swung his sword after the thief in a backhanded arc as Gambit rolled to his feet. Gambit continued his graceful pirouette by bringing up the staff in a single-handed swing to crack the Captain on the side of the head. The bigger man gasped and held his hand to his stinging ear. The Captain twisted around to follow Gambit's circuitous route and received a blow to his ribcage with the blunt end of the staff. The Captain folded over his new injury with a grunt.

"I ain't playin' wit'chu now," Gambit told him. "I been more'n fair, what wit' the whole not blowin' you up and all. Which is a damn far cry from what anyone's ever given me. Figure we fight on equal terms. Now let's just walk away from dis whole mess and nobody gets hurt."

"You-do _not-_give **me **direction!" the Captain said angrily. "_I'm_ the star! _I_ have the power! _I_ have the temple! _I _am the one **who gets the girl**. Not _you_, you D-List... undisciplined... effeminate... _moron_!"

Gambit rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Sticks an' stones and all that. _Mon capitaine_, you gotta play to your strengths. You make a spectacular bad guy, but de whole heroic role you've tried to cast yourself in...you've flubbed it entirely. This show is a total bomb."

"The fault is entirely _yours_," the Captain said, pointing his sword at Gambit. "No one wants to watch a series of your insipid adventures!"

"I'm walkin' away from this now, it's gettin' downright dull."

"Pay attention to **me**!" the Captain shouted.

"I need a drink about now," Gambit said to no one in particular.

"I AM THE BEST CHARACTER ACTOR OF ALL TIME!"

"Just 'cause you say it in all caps don't make it true."

The Captain inarticulately screamed and flung his sword at Gambit. Gambit dodged to the side as the blade buried itself halfway to the hilt in the ground, thrumming dully to itself. Gambit looked at it with a bored expression and was about to turn to the Captain when he suddenly found himself thrown upon the ground. The Captain had his hands wrapped around Gambit's throat. The Captain's face was red with rage and frustration as he throttled the snarky-mouthed thief.

"Acck!" Gambit said, trying to pry the Captain's hands from his neck.

"Hey! You arrogant prick!" shouted a voice.

The Captain looked up from his single-minded devotion to choking the life out of the most annoying person he'd ever met. The Captain was met with a cream-based pie in the face. Blue and white pudding and cream dripped down from his unhappy countenance. With shaking hands, he reached up to touch the FROOT pie on his face.

"Heh," Gambit said weakly. "Drive-by FROOTing."

The Captain struggled to his feet. "You dare...you dare to make **me** look ridiculous?" he asked with barely controlled rage.

Gambit sat up to see that the courtyard was full of oversized chickens and bikini-clad females. The women were holding pies; also spears, which were slightly more threatening. One of the women strode forward now.

"_We're_ taking over this here operation," Spat told the Captain. "Ladies, commence to den-mothering and hen-pecking!"

The young women came forward, fussing and cooing over the fallen soldiers and worshippers.

"You poor thing!"

"Are you all right?"

"Let me help you, sweetie!"

"No, don't get up. Just sit right there and let me take care of you."

"Would you like some pie?"

"Tami, Gina, Stacey!" Spat commanded and pointed at the Captain. "Take care of this one. He needs _special_ treatment!"

The redhead, brunette, and the dark-haired woman stepped forward to stand over the Captain.

"This-this can't be-!" the Captain began, looking from one woman to the next.

Tami sprayed him in the face with a squirt bottle.

"Schcht!" Gina said, pointing the fingers of her right hand in the Captain's face, Cesar Millan-style.

The Captain stared at the trio in stupefied silence.

"Good boy," Stacey said and patted his hair.

Gambit climbed to his feet to face Spat. "Thanks for savin' my bacon," he told her.

"Sure, Remy. I figure now we're even, right?" Spat said.

Gambit mulled this over for a moment. "Yeah...all right. But only if you still got that coin I handed to you from before."

Spat reached down the front of her bikini top and retrieved the leather band that Gambit had previously tied to his bicep. "This thing?" she asked as she extracted the coin from the band. "Where'd you get this?"

"I stole it off Exodus awhile back. But then I accidentally swallowed it."

Spat stared at the coin a moment before pressing it into Gambit's hand. She wiped her fingertips off on her bikini.

"I threw it up, it didn't come out de other way," Gambit explained.

"Yah, not overly thrilled to have touched it in any case," Spat said.

Gambit examined the coin, turning it over in his hand. "Hm," he said and rubbed the smiling face imprinted on the coin. A golden glowing door appeared in the air before him. The pair stared at the doorway.

"Where does it go?" Spat asked.

"I think to Spiral's Shoppe," Gambit said. "You comin'?"

"Isn't Spiral the one who could very possibly kill most of Earth's superheroes single-handedly?" Spat asked.

"I might've heard tell of that," Gambit said.

"And didn't she kidnap and forcibly use an alternate-reality version of Sunspot as her real-life blow-up sex doll?"

"Uhm..." Gambit said, his brows coming together in concern.

"And isn't she completely bat-shit crazy from looking into the infinite abyss between realities?"

"Yeah, that's definitely de same Spiral."

"You mentioned something about knowing two single men, right?" Spat asked hopefully.

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's go."

"What about your followers?" Gambit asked her.

Spat looked around at the temple grounds, at the young men and women working together, at the Captain who was sullenly being led away by the trio of women up into the pyramid.

"I want to be the king," the Captain said petulantly.

"There, there, you'll be king," Tami said soothingly.

Spat turned back to Gambit. "You know, I have to let them live their own lives. I realize I can't make their decisions for them, as much as the obsessive-compulsive control-freak type of person I am tells me to."

Gambit patted her shoulder. "I used t'manipulate people t'do what I wanted them to because my own life was so out of control. Playin' wit' people's emotions made me feel like I had a handle on something. I've since come t'know I that de only person I can change is myself."

"Remy, I think sometimes you show an amazing amount of insight and maturity. You really _have_ changed."

"Don't give me too much credit. I'm overdue t'backslide back into my old ways any time now."

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you had a touch of your old self back, maybe to make you a bit more interesting."

"Smackin' that Captain guy around _did_ feel pretty awesome. And I almost forgot how much fun it is to steal things," Gambit observed with a grin. Spat returned the smile.

Gambit grasped Spat's hand and together they hopped through the open portal.

FADE OUT

ACT SIX

Scene A

FADE IN:

INT. SPIRAL'S BATH & BODY WORKS SHOPPE, THE WILDWAYS – DAY

"I go away for _fifteen_ minutes and just **look** what happens!" Spiral complained loudly as she twisted Psuedo-Longshot's head back into place. When his handsome features were facing in the right direction, he smiled winsomely at her.

"How's my hair?" he asked her.

"Atrocious!" Spiral announced while fluffing his blond locks. They wilted sadly and she pouted. "You need product. Massive amounts of product."

Spiral turned back to survey her Shoppe. She picked up the fallen curtain from the floor and moved to hang it back up. "Look at this place! It's a mess!"

"Uhm...it was like this when I got here," Shadowcat said, hanging upside down from the ceiling like a smoked ham. Spiral had affixed her there with several magical bindings and what looked to be silken spiderwebbing (courtesy of Arachna. Don't ask how she makes it. You _don't_ want to know).

"Storage closet's all jumbled up...heads everywhere...transport tables configured all wrong...just about every live feed we've got is down! And you," here Spiral turned and jabbed a pink-painted fingernail in Shadowcat's direction, "messed up my chair! I had it set just right! I _need _lumbar support!"

"What you _need_ is electro-shock therapy!" Shadowcat countered.

Spiral approached Shadowcat, and with her face inches from Kitty's breathed: "I don't-like people-touching-my _stuff_."

Kitty's face, red as a cherry tomato, assumed a look of fear. The dumbwaiter in the corner chimed and Spiral's threatening expression cleared like the parting of storm clouds. "Speaking of therapy...!" Spiral said cheerfully and sauntered over to the little door. She slid it aside and extracted a pint of _Ben & Jerry's_ Cherry Garcia.

"I feel better all ready! Rats, they forgot a spoon. Who am I going to have to mutilate to get good service around here?" Spiral turned back to Shadowcat, who gulped nervously.

Shadowcat glanced over at Pseudo-Longshot with a silent plea for help. He smiled at her and waved cheerfully.

A golden doorway appeared and two people hopped through it to land gracefully in the Shoppe. Spat and Gambit made random temporal doorway travel look positively easy. Spying Gambit, Spiral hastily reached over and shoved Pseudo-Longshot into the closet and pulled closed the curtain.

The golden door closed shut behind Gambit and Spat and the pair turned to face Spiral. "Is that her? Spiral?" Spat asked. "I thought she had more arms."

Gambit regarded Spiral a moment. His eyes flicked up to Shadowcat, then returned to Spiral. He smiled disarmingly at her. "Hey, _chere_," he said. "What happened t'your arms?"

Spiral raised her two remaining arms. "I was literally ripped limb from limb by rabid fangirls," she explained.

"Oh...," Gambit seemed disappointed. "That's too bad."

"Why would fangirls attack you?" Spat asked.

"Well," Spiral began, "Mojo got into a spot of trouble at the ComicCon panel...a spirited debate, you might say. And the crowd got out of hand. I think some people must have assumed I was in costume, because the next thing I know, my arms are off and they're rushing the stage and beating the crap out of Mojo with them."

"So Mojo's gone?" Gambit asked. "I figured we'd have some battle royale wit' him b'fore we'd get on home."

"I'm sure that putrid sack of slimy goat puke will be back in some iteration or another," Spiral said and pointed up at Shadowcat. "You can hang out for awhile if you want to wait."

"Actually, it might be nice if you could maybe just open us up a portal and send us on our way," Gambit told her.

Spiral folded her two remaining arms. "And _why_ would I do **that**?"

"So it's gonna be one of them deal wit' de devil situations, is it?" Gambit asked and laced his fingers together before stretching out his arms to crack his knuckles. "I've been here b'fore, _chere_. What d'you want for our freedom?"

Spiral shifted her weight to one leg and tapped a finger against her lips. She considered Gambit carefully before saying: "I know. How about you subject yourself to a needlessly painful body transformation to become my mindless and willing slave...? Clarification: _sex_ slave."

Gambit mused on this.

"Remy LeBeau," Shadowcat said from her lofty perch strung from the rafters. "You cannot be thinking that that is a reasonable suggestion."

Gambit replied: "But it's for a good cause...?"

"Gambit, rub your two brain cells together and think a little harder on this," Spat told him.

"He's a big boy," Spiral said to the two women. "He can make his own decisions. Now, what's your answer?"

Gambit looked perplexed. "Is my answer...no...?" He looked to Spat for confirmation.

Spat slowly closed her eyes and nodded once in a very tired sort of way.

"Are you asking or telling me?" Spiral asked Gambit.

"No! I will _not_ become your slave!" Gambit was pleased with his accomplishment. "In fact, I have a better idea," he continued and now Shadowcat's brows knit together with worry.

"Oh, this oughta be good," Spiral said.

"I suggest you let Kitty down and have her help you fix up them broken feeds back there," Gambit said and hooked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the blackened monitors behind him. "She's good at electronic-type stuff...and it looks like you could use an extra set of hands."

Spiral regarded her two palms distractedly. "Hm...," she said. "I _am_ a little...short-handed. I could use an intern. Clarification: _unpaid_ intern."

Shadowcat nodded. "Fine, fine! Let me down from here and I'll help. But then you have to let me go!"

"And what about her?" Spiral asked and gestured at Spat.

Gambit reached behind Spat and extracted a rolled-up document from the back of her bikini bottoms.

"Hey!" Spat said putting her hands over her bottom and glaring at Gambit.

Gambit held the document before him and let it unfurl so that the long sheet of paper unrolled to its full length to trail onto the floor. "You let Spat go and she won't sue Murderworld Entertainment, Inc. for breach of contract. Seems she was promised a few t'ings that weren't delivered on."

Spiral picked up the length of parchment that constituted Spat's contract and perused its contents. "Well... Okay. But that still leaves you."

"I offer t'you, _chere..._de one thing I am guaranteed to deliver upon," he said with a small bow in her direction. "One helluva good time."

Spiral cocked her head. From behind her came a voice from the closet: "Can I come out of the closet now?"

"Ooo...pretty!" said the deranged head.

"Thank you," said the man behind the curtain.

"Was that-?" Spat began.

"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" Spiral exclaimed.

DING!

"What was _that_ noise?" Shadowcat asked.

"Never mind!" Spiral shouted, throwing her arms out to her sides. "Back to the matter at hand. What kind of a good time are we talking about here?"

"Dinner, dancing...wine, candlelight...de whole nine yards, _ma cherie_," Gambit explained in his slow-as-molasses drawl. "There will be de delivering of de roses. And then de holding open of doors. And de sweeping of your sweet self off of your feet. And if you get cold, you can wear my coat. Believer in de old fashioned romance ways of things, me."

"Really? No alternate reality brainwashings or coercion?" Spiral speculated. "No bondage? Fetish clothing? No psi-mind links?"

"I prefer t'win a woman over," Gambit explained, "wit' wit and charm and my own sparkling personality. Don't need no gimmicks."

"This is really unheard of," Spiral said.

"I know just de place I can take you. I hope you like t'eat," Gambit told her. "I appreciate a woman wit' a healthy appetite."

"I _knew_ you had a type. So, can we say next Friday...?"

"Seven-thirty?" Gambit suggested.

"Is this really happening?" Shadowcat asked, bewildered. "I mean, all the blood is in my head now, so I might actually be hallucinating or something."

Spiral clapped her hands happily. "It's a date!" she cried, then her expression changed from happiness to worry. "Oh, I'm going to need something to wear!" She waved an arm and Shadowcat was unceremoniously dropped from the ceiling. "Intern! Prepare the tanning chamber! You, Extra!

"It's Spat. My name is Spat."

"I like your style, Extra. Now help me pick something out." Then Spiral pointed skyward and called out: "_Wardrobe_!"

FADE OUT

ACT SIX

Scene B

FROM BLACK:

INT. DARKENED BEDROOM, UTOPIA – NIGHT

The gold rectangle of light appeared on the ceiling of the darkened bedroom, momentarily lightening the space until two bodies dropped from the open portal. The pair plunged downward a few feet before striking the soft, yielding surface of a large king-sized bed. Or it would have been soft and yielding if there hadn't all ready been a body laying in it.

"Oof!" the now-conscious figure said as both Gambit and Spat body-flopped onto the mattress.

The pair rolled in opposite directions as the formerly dormant figure threw out his arms in surprise and sat up.

"Where are we?" Spat asked in the darkness. Two pairs of shining bright eyes stared at her, one red, the other gold.

"Hold on a sec," said the man who lay sandwiched between Spat and Gambit. He reached over Gambit and turned on a bedside lamp.

"Oh...," Gambit said from where he lay on the mattress propped up on his elbows. He looked up at the man leaning over him. "Hi, Actual-Longshot."

Longshot looked down at Gambit with a perplexed expression. He was about to say something when he was interrupted by the noise of what sounded like a teakettle about to boil. Longshot glanced over his shoulder at Spat.

Spat had her knuckles pressed to her cheeks and an ecstatic expression on her face. "Eeeee!" she was saying. "It's _him_! It's really him!"

"Hi there," Longshot told his surprise bedmate. "I'm Longshot."

"I know!" Spat sighed, enraptured. "I'm a huge, **huge **fan!"

Longshot smiled at her in his trademarked charming way. "It's always a pleasure to meet a fan!"

"EEEE!" Spat continued.

"Sorry about de rude awakening," Gambit apologized to Longshot. "Though, it should probably worry you dat Spiral's got a portal at de ready that drops a body straight inta your bed."

"Oh, I don't mind the company. I miss it actually," Longshot said.

"Can I have your autograph?" Spat asked from where she lay stiff as a board on the bed, paralyzed with fangirl joy.

"Sure!" Longshot said and once more reached over Gambit to retrieve a Sharpie marker from his bedside drawer. "Where should I sign?"

Spat pointed to the place over her heart and grinned. Gambit rolled his eyes and sighed.

When Longshot was finished he turned to Gambit. "Do you want my autograph too?" he asked.

"Uhm...actually, d'you mind givin' me a ride back t'Salem Center? I mean, if it's no trouble," Gambit asked.

"No trouble at all!" Longshot answered. "I don't have anything going on anyway. One thing though..."

"What's dat?" Gambit asked.

"Can we wait 'til morning? I need my eight hours of beauty sleep!"

"Oh. Sure. Yeah, that'd be fine," Gambit said.

"Great!" Longshot said with a smile. He returned the marker pen to the drawer and then switched off the light. "Okay, goodnight!"

"Eeee...!" Spat said quietly in the darkness.

Gambit stared up at the ceiling, his eyes wide.

"Uhm, Gambit?" Longshot asked.

"What?" Gambit asked in the darkness.

"Could you close your eyes...? They're glowing...," Longshot said.

"Oh, sorry." Gambit closed his eyes and the room was dark once again.

After a few moments Longshot said: "Your hair smells nice. Kinda fruity. What shampoo do you use?"

Gambit's eyes reopened. "Are you askin' _**me**_?"

"It's so soft too!" Longshot observed.

"Eeeee...heeheeeee..." Spat said breathlessly as she finally ran out of air.

FADE TO BLACK

* * *

_Director's Cut: There's still one more exciting chapter left...the Curtain Call! Thank you all for reading, and special thank yous for those who were kind enough to post your feedback. _

_And something about the new formatting in the doc manager erases all my registered trademarks! So don't sue me!  
_


	17. Curtain Call

ACT SIX

Scene C

FADE IN:

INT. LONGSHOT'S JET, SOMEWHERE IN THE MID-WEST, U.S. OF A. – DAY

"_Here I go again on my o-own!_" the trio sang."_Goin' down the only road I've ever known...!_"

"I insist, for the safety of our travel, that you cease that infernal racket!"

"_Like a drifter I was born to walk alo-o-one...!_"

"Stop this at once!"

"_And I've made up my mind...I ain't wastin' no more time!_"

The cassette tape was rudely and abruptly cut off as the 1980s relic, a oversized boombox, was levitated into the air and the tape ejected forcefully from the deck.

"Hey! My monster jams mixed-tape!" Longshot complained from the pilot's seat.

The cassette tape hit the ceiling of the cockpit and fell into Gambit's lap, where he was seated as co-pilot. "I haven't seen one of these in _years_!" he said as he examined the tape.

Spat leaned forward from her seat behind Gambit. "Do you have any Bon Jovi?" she asked Longshot.

"Nooooo!" Gambit wailed.

"I demand that the three of you at the very least assume the impression of dignity, and behave as adults!" MAGNETO exclaimed from where he stood behind Longshot.

Spat consulted her compact mirror. "How does my hair look?" she asked as she studied her reflection and fluffed her bangs.

Longshot turned in his seat and regarded her a moment. "Could be bigger," he said.

"Longshot! Focus your attention on piloting this aircraft!" Magneto demanded and pointed a finger at the windscreen.

Gambit peered over his head-rest and looked at Spat's hair. "Jack it to Jesus!" he exclaimed.

"Can I borrow your spritz?" Spat asked Longshot.

Longshot reached behind his seat to fumble around for his bag. "Yeah, sure, it's back here somewhere..."

"What is our estimated time of arrival?" Magneto asked Gambit.

"Hey Longshot, Mags is askin' are we dere yet," Gambit said.

"We get there when we get there!" Longshot said, now fully distracted as he searched the contents of his duffel bag. "Ah! Here it is!"

Longshot tossed his bottle of product back to Spat. She caught it and began to liberally apply it to the back of her head. Magneto coughed and waved away the cloud of hairspray vapor.

"We could play Twenty Questions to pass the time," Longshot suggested.

"Nooooo!" Gambit said again.

Spat pressed a tube of pink lipstick to her lips and spoke at the same time: "Moah 'usick!"

"I got dis great new album..." Gambit began.

Spat pressed her lips into a line then announced: "I don't want to listen to the weirdo bands you like that no one has ever heard of!"

Gambit turned back to her and pouted. "You should keep an open mind. I _know_ you'd like dis band. They're great! In fact, they're playin' in Central Park tonight! Hey!" Here Gambit reached out and slapped Longshot in the arm. "You should come with! It'll be fun!"

"We are on a mission-," Magneto began.

"I love concerts!" Longshot said.

"Me too!" Spat added.

"Let's get a bunch of folks together-," Gambit was saying.

"-to transport Exodus back to Utopia's X-Brig," Magneto continued. "We don't have-."

"I'm bringin' Cece," Gambit said. "Let's see if we can't get Bobby an' Sam t'go along too."

"Eeee!" Spat said.

"-time for this nonsense!" Magneto finished.

"I'd bet Rogue'd be up for it," Gambit added.

"Won't that be awkward?" Spat asked him.

"No," Gambit replied. "We're all good. We worked things out."

"Wait-what?" Magneto asked.

"Who's Rogue?" Longshot asked while scratching his head. "That name sounds soooo familiar."

"Well it should," Gambit responded as he riffled in his coat pocket. "She used t'have one heckuva crush on you, boy."

"What's this now?" Magneto asked, going completely ignored.

"Here it is," Gambit said as he located his music player. He plugged the device into a USB port. "Have a listen."

"_Don't worry...sweet baby! Don't you ever worry 'bout a thing. Put them worries on the shelf... 'n' learn to love yourself...Don't be your own worst enemy._"

"I like her voice...kinda Janis Joplin-y," Spat said.

"Is this Rogue cute?" Longshot asked over the music.

"Very!" Gambit replied equally as loud.

"Keep your thoughts on the task at hand!" Magneto insisted.

"I have _Chex Mix_!" Spat announced and produced the snack mix from her bag. "Or gummy bears. Here, Remy, brought this for you."

She threw a _Ho-Ho_ in Gambit's direction, which he caught without looking. Spat struggled to open the bag of gummy bears.

"Don't open it like that," Magneto said. "Just-here, wait-allow me-."

The bag popped open and gummy bears scattered across the seat and floor.

"Whoops," Spat said and picked gummy bears from her shirt front, then stuffed them into her mouth.

"We should be there in ten," Longshot said.

Gambit had a headset on which he pulled off and set around his neck. "Got clearance from de school," he told Longshot before stuffing the entire _Ho-Ho _into his mouth.

"Gummy bear?" Spat offered the remnants of the torn bag to Magneto. Magneto sighed.

"Gob bisual," Gambit said around a mouthful of chocolate cake. He swallowed. "Visual," he repeated.

"Hey," Longshot looked at Gambit with a grin. "Want I should buzz the school?"

Gambit grinned back at him. "Yeah, do it!"

"Do _NOT_-!" Magneto began.

"Barrel roll!" Spat cried, her arms raised and the remaining gummy bears flew from the bag.

"_WOOOOO_!" the three younger passengers cried as the jet buzzed perilously close to the Jean Grey School's roof.

Magneto struck the ceiling as the jet was inverted, then the floor as the jet returned to its upright position. Below, the windows of the school rattled in their frames and terrified birds lit from the roof and central bell tower.

The aircraft came to an abrupt halt mid-air and the passengers were thrown forward against their restraints. Magneto commanded hold of the aircraft with his powers and set it down onto the front lawn of the school. The door opened and the gangplank descended from the jet. Magneto staggered onto the lawn as the three remaining passengers stepped from the aircraft.

"-Not _our_ fault you didn't buckle in," Spat was saying.

"Safety first!" Longshot announced, which struck Gambit as being the utmost height of hilarity.

The school inhabitants were pooling out the front doors, their expressions divided between amusement, mild terror, or irritation. Your guess on who was the most irritated.

"What the **#* %**!" Wolverine said as he marched across the lawn. Did you guess right?

"This is de most I've laughed in forever," Gambit told Longshot. "You don't belong on Utopia...those people don't have an ounce of humor between de lot of them."

"I would counter that there are significant matters to attend to, none of them being the least bit humorous," Magneto said.

"You should totally stay here," Gambit told Longshot.

"No...no, absolutely not," Wolverine said. "I can only handle one of you!"

"I'm going t'switch to part-time," Gambit told Wolverine.

"That's a friggin' relief," Wolverine answered.

"Rough flight?" Rogue asked Magneto as she approached the new arrivals.

"It was like having sophomoric in surround-sound," Magneto told her.

"What's that mean?" Longshot asked.

"It means he thinks we all stupid," Gambit explained.

"That's not nice," Spat said.

"No one ever accused Magneto of bein' nice," Gambit told her.

"Magnus, don't let Gambit get your goat. He's just bein' ornery," Rogue informed Magneto.

"_Quoi_?" Gambit said and assumed a look of clueless innocence.

"Remy, thank goodness you're back," Rogue said and hugged him. "And that you're fully dressed."

"Longshot let me borrow some gear," Gambit told her. "We're of a size."

"Ohhh...," Longshot said. "I remember now! _You're_ Rogue!"

"Hey, sugah," Rogue said. Longshot grinned at her and she blushed red to the roots of her hair.

Magneto looked nonplussed. Gambit looked outrageously pleased.

A Prius pulled up the long drive and a woman burst from the passenger-side door. "Remy!" Cecelia cried.

"Cece!" Gambit replied as she trotted over to him. She came to a staggering halt before him, now suddenly awkward.

"You're okay," she said, mostly to herself. "I'm so glad."

"I tole you I've got outta worse scrapes, _ma jolie_," he said to her with a smile.

Cecelia glanced up at him. "I know this seems kind of sudden," she began. "But...we've been dating these last few months and I think-I think I'm ready to...take this to the next level."

"What level is that?" Gambit asked, suddenly nervous.

"Well, my brother was on leave, so...I thought I'd introduce you to my family." Cecelia gestured back at the Prius. "This is my brother, Colonel MIGUEL REYES."

"Colonel...?" Gambit repeated with trepidation.

The large man unfolded himself from the Prius and stood to face his sister's new boyfriend. A quick assessment quickly informed Colonel Reyes of his opinion of one: Remy LeBeau, and it was not a positive one.

"Touch my sister, and I will kill you," Miguel informed Gambit.

"Ulp," Gambit said.

"He's just kidding," Cecelia said and patted Gambit's forearm.

Miguel regarded the stupefied doe-eyed look on his sister's face as she stared at Gambit. Colonel Reyes' own expression grew increasingly dark. "What have you **done** to her?!" Miguel demanded of Gambit.

"Does your brother know how t'use a sword?" Gambit asked Cecelia.

"No. But he can pilot a Prime Sentinel."

"Fan-freakin'-tastic," Gambit muttered.

"We're going to a concert!" Longshot announced. "Who's coming!?"

"I've packed a picnic," Cecelia told Gambit in an undertone. "I hope you're hungry..." For the first time ever, Gambit flushed.

"Sounds fun, sugah," Rogue said to Longshot.

"Hey, what's this about a concert?" Bobby asked as he walked over with Warbird in tow.

"I'm game," Sam said, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops in his jeans.

Spat was hopping up and down with glee.

"Oh yeah," Gambit said as he glanced over at her. "Hey, Sam. Dis my friend Spat. You're takin' her out."

Sam looked momentarily stunned. "I-I-okay."

"Remy," Spat said impatiently, her hands on her hips. "That's not how this setting-up thing works."

"Yeah it is. De polar ice caps'll melt and reform again b'fore Sam here makes a move. He had a chance wit' Rogue and look what happen," Gambit pointed at Magneto. "You gotta strike while de iron's hot."

Sam turned to Spat. "Well, it's a pleasure t'meet you. How do you and Gambit know each other?"

"It's a long story," Spat began.

"It's boring. Y'don't wanna hear it," Gambit hedged.

"_**YOU**_! How dare you show your face here!" exclaimed a voice from the school entry. Frenzy stood at the top of the staircase, her arm pointed rigidly at Spat. "I will **destroy** you, you back-stabbing, man-stealing, hussy!"

"Oh..._hi_, Frenzy," Spat said hesitantly. She glanced at Gambit and spoke out of the side of her mouth. "You didn't mention you were working with _her_ again."

"Slipped my mind," Gambit said.

"She's not really the type to forgive and forget," Spat said. Frenzy was barreling towards Spat at top speed.

"I dunno...me an' her learned to bury de hatchet," Gambit informed Spat.

"Prepare to die, you blond bimbo!" Frenzy flew at Spat.

Spat took off running with a shriek. "Joanna...! Sweetie...! Let's just talk! It all happened soooo long ago!"

"Come back here and fight!" Frenzy cried.

"Run and live!" Spat cried.

The group gathered on the lawn watched the pair run across the lawn.

Sam looked at Gambit with a raised eyebrow.

"We thief/mercenary/adventurer types travel in de same circle," Gambit informed him. "But she's a real charmin' gal. Family-values type and all dat. Hope you like college football."

"We have a mission to complete," Magneto said to Rogue authoritatively. "Remit Exodus into my custody so that I may transport him back to his cell."

Rogue raised the corner of her mouth in a sardonic grin. "You askin' or tellin' me, Magnus?"

"Exodus is out cold," Wolverine told Magneto. "He can keep in the med-bay."

"Do you mean to inform me that this one," Magneto pointed dismissively at Gambit, "was able to incapacitate one of the most powerful mutants on the planet? I find that unbelievable...nay, laughable."

"It were an accident," Gambit said, somewhat embarrassed. "Didn't mean to incapis-incapsul- hurt him so bad."

"He deserved it," Cecelia told Gambit as she put her hand in his.

A golden rectangle of light slid open in the air before them like a breadbox full of magical bread.

"Hey-a," Spiral said as she poked her head out of the open window.

"This can't be good," Wolverine muttered.

"No, it's cool," Shadowcat said as she appeared in the window beside Spiral. Spiral waved all three of her left arms at the Jean Grey School members.

"Oh good," Gambit said with pleased relief. "Y'got yourself pulled back together."

Shadowcat climbed out of the window to land in a rather undignified heap on the campus lawn. Wolverine helped her to her feet.

"So here's the thing...," Shadowcat began.

"We've got an open time slot," Spiral continued. "Our whole fall season is depending on this line-up."

"We're going to need another series to fill the void," Shadowcat continued. "Otherwise the whole station is going down the tubes."

"And we care because...?" Bobby began.

"If Murderworld is sucked into the endless abyss of a vacant nine-thirty p.m. slot...It creates a vacuum," Spiral said. "Your reality is next in the chain. Do you all want to vanish into an empty prime-time slot because we couldn't come up with twenty-two minutes of recorded inanity?"

The constituents of the Jean Grey School shook their heads 'no.'

"Then we need to fill it with something...anything. Any kind of vapid, senseless nonsense anyone can think of," Kitty said.

Spiral extended one of her right arms through the window. From her manicured fingertips she dangled a long sheet of parchment that unrolled to end at Gambit's feet. "We're offering you a contract," she told him.

"Me?" Gambit asked, surprised.

Spiral nodded. "Your own series," she continued.

Gambit regarded the document. "I dunno...," he began. "Mebbe I should have a lawyer look dis over."

"I know a good lawyer," Cecelia said. "Matt Murdock. He could have a look-see."

Gambit glanced at Cecelia. "How do _you_ know Matt Murdock?"

Cecelia hesitated. "I-uh...he was a patient of mine...once."

Gambit's eyes were flicking back and forth in a way that told Cece he was thinking hard. Steam was practically coming out of his ears. Before Gambit could put two and two together and come up with the solution that Cecelia knew the secret identity of Daredevil, Cecelia stated: "I still have the red leather outfit from Wardrobe."

The pained look on Gambit's face vanished and he smiled. "Really?" he asked hopefully.

"It's all legit," Kitty told Gambit. "The contract. There's no full frontal nudity in it or anything."

Just about every female in the audience (with the exception of Karma) looked disappointed.

"Who would watch a series involving Gambit?" Magneto asked pompously. "He's hardly star-material."

"The fangirls have spoken," Spiral told him. "Now shut your yap before I punch you into the next galaxy."

"You think you can-!" Magneto began before Spiral waved one of her hands and transformed him into a giant chicken and then back again. Magneto remained sullenly silent.

"Well, Gambit. What say you? Do you want to save this reality from the gaping maw of black infinity and sign the contract?" Spiral shook the document at Gambit. "Or remain anonymous filler in the background of every series you appear in before its inevitable cancellation?"

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice," Gambit said as he selflessly sacrificed himself for the betterment of the universe. "I'll sign your contract."

Kitty handed him a cartoonishly-large pen. "Gambit, you're our hero."

"I don't do any of dis stuff on purpose, I swear," Gambit told her and signed.

"_Well I-I...I wanna be your lover..."_

_"I wanna be your man..._"

"What's that noise?" Magneto asked.

"It's music," Rogue told him, looking skyward for the source of the sound.

"_I want you to understand..."_

_"And I-I...I wanna open your door..."_

"Where's it coming from?" Sam asked.

"It's for the end-credits," Spiral explained as the credits began crawling up the screen, superimposed over the scene of the Jean Grey School's front yard.

"_And love you 'til you're sore..."_

_"That works for...wait a minute, wait a minute! Yeah..._"

Gambit looked up and pointed. "Hey, there go my name!"

"_I wanna be your thing, your any-thing, your every-thing oh, yeah..._"

"Why are **you** mentioned first?" Magneto asked, outraged.

"_And I-I...I wanna fill your cup..."_

_"Fill it up, fill it up to the brim with love..._"

"'Cause he's the star," Longshot said.

"Duh," Kitty added.

"_You'll never have to ask..."_

_"I'll give you my sweet grass..."_

_"I'm gonna mesmerize your ass...!_"

"How is _Gambit_ the star of anything?" Magneto continued. "I thought_ I_ was the star!"

"_Just give me my first chance,"_

_"It's gonna be the last..."_

_"I'm gonna make you wanna staaaaaay..._"

"The star of what?" Frenzy asked as she came to a shambling halt. Spat stood beside her, her hands on her knees as she panted for breath.

"_I-I...I wanna be your cow..."_

_"Give you all the milk around town..._"

"The star of this story," Rogue said and watched the names scroll up into the sky. "Hey look, there Ah go!"

"_Let me see, let me see you drink it down..._"

"Uhm," Bobby began. "Does anyone think these lyrics might be a tad...suggestive...?"

"_I-I...I wanna be the pear tree..."_

_"I want you to climb all over me..._"

"I like it," Gambit said.

"**You** would," Spat said.

"_Try my fruit and taste my seed..."_

_"Climb right on me...lay it on me...C-climb right on me, l-lay it on me!_"

"Gosh, I hope none of the students are listenin' t'this," Sam said.

"_Taste my seed_!" sang Broo happily as he hopped past.

"Wuh-oh," Rogue said.

"_Just let my do my thing..."_

_"Until you start to sing..._"

"Hey, there's mine and Joanna's name!" Cecelia said.

"Woot! Top billing!" Joanna exclaimed.

"_I'm goin' down you all night long..."_

_"I'm gonna build a bond..."_

_"I'm pullin' out my wand..._"

"Oh, for the love of-." Wolverine said and rubbed his forehead.

"_Feels so right it can't be wrooooong_!"

"I haven't seen my name yet," Magneto said.

"You're not essential to this story!" Spiral snapped.

"_Well I-I, I wanna be your lover..."_

_"I wanna be your man..."_

_"I want you to understand..._"

"I'm important!" Magneto insisted.

"Well, what have **you** been doing this whole time?" Joanna asked.

"_And I-I, I wanna be you lover, baby..."_

_"I wanna be your girl..."_

_"Blow a kiss and change the world, yeah..._"

"Oh, I don't know...saving the world from the Phoenix Force and uniting all mutantkind!" Magneto said with bitter sarcasm.

"Snore," Spat said.

"_We're gonna make it through..."_

_"You got me and I got you..."_

_"Your bleedin' heart's at my command_..."

"What are you doing?" Warbird asked Bobby.

"The Dougie," Bobby responded.

"It reminds me of a mating dance we conduct on my homeworld."

"_If you don't love me too...Then bein' friends will do..."_

_"'__Long as you let me in your __**bed**__...!_"

"Hey, everybody...!" Bobby exclaimed. "We're all gonna get laid!"

**DING!**

END SCENE

FADE TO BLACK

Remy LeBeau's wardrobe provided by The Salvation Army and Goodwill Industries

Anna Marie and Cecelia Reyes' wardrobe provided by EX-O's Skeleton Closet of Savage Land

Musical Score:

_I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts_

by Merv Griffin

_Here I Go Again_

by Whitesnake

_Hang Loose_

by Alabama Shakes

_Lover_

by Devendra Banhart

Lines stolen from:

_Rushmore_

_The Wizard of Oz_

_Caddyshack_

Chocobos provided courtesy of Square Enix and the Final Fantasy series.

_No animals were harmed in the making of this film. Just Gambit._


End file.
